I didn’t know I loved the smell of old books
Like adventure, romance, death, lost love
It smells like all of those
It smells like stories
I didn’t know I loved the look of things organized
Bricks laid in a straight line
The black keys of the keyboard as I type the uniformed letters
When things are even. Straight. Right.
I didn’t know I loved the sound of pencils
Scratching ideas and rushed notes
Tearing through poorly written words
Confessing secrets, gossip, love
I didn’t know I loved the feel of a kiss
Soft and intimate
Just for me
And just for him
I didn’t know I loved words
The pressing of them on my tongue, on my fingers, on my pen
There’s a 50/50 chance with words
They build up, they destroy. You love them, you hate them
No comments:
Post a Comment