my pages are wrinkled

covered in words

both typewritten and not

with the scent of a thousand fingers

that linger

claiming their place in my story;

I’m not a trendy new novel

I’m the classics you keep coming back to

and you’ve even memorized some of my words

because they managed to burn their way

into your heart and mind.


Don’t you see, darling?

I’m your favorite book

not just another story on your shelf

that you read once and then

forgot about.

Categories Creative Writing, Poetry, ProseTags , , , ,

1 thought on “classic

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