A short poem for people like me who spent their Valentine’s Day reading.
For my first love was always hidden in one of these books
Inside those crazy pages, beside those flowing brooks.
He still lies here, it’s just that now I know where
He’s aware of me reading through his soul but doesn’t care.
A love story was never just the two of us
It had pages of ink and lead and it’s a story thus.
We just lay in bed laughing at some of our stupid mistakes
And life kept giving us more of those moments for more remakes.
A book wouldn’t be able to sum up our story in it’s pages
But books are just summaries of life lived in stages.
Thus I was reading one to remember the beautiful times spent with you
And soon I realized how eagerly I wanted a new moment with you.