you were supposed to be my favorite story

i’m taking it all in 
suspending judgement
replacing it with wonder
you’re a mystery 

i want to read you like a book
to know your insides, as i hold your body
to be amazed at how light each page is
but when you put them all together
you are solid, heavy, substantial
you are full of curiousity

knowing full well the depth in your volumes
i want to our over you as if your were my favorite novel
i want to feel the weight of you 

on my fingertips
on my lap 
on my chest
as i fall asleep to you

just sit

sit with me a while
allow me to adjust 
to the summary of you
allow me to absorb 
the textures of your cover

i want to read you 
as if i’ve read you a million times
when i hold you 
i want you to be familiar
i want to know your margins
to remember the placement of your words

but i’m barely through the foreword
and i don’t want to skip any chapters 
or try to guess the ending this time
i want to read you like you’re meant to be read

even if the ending hits me 
like a ton of bricks 
or holds a jarring twist

i want to wait
to read you slowly
to read you right

i can already tell wherever this story goes
you’ll end up being one of my favorites