We reach..

"THIS BED I FALL ASLEEP IN 

REMINDS ME OF THOSE BOOKS

I READ WHEN I WAS YOUNGER,

SHEETS BENT IN THE SAME

PATTERN I LEFT THEM IN,  

SPINE TIRED AND WORN. 

THIS IS WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE

TO BE ADORED, I TELL MYSELF,

THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE

TO FALL IN LOVE WITH WORDS

WRITTEN FOR SOMEONE ELSE. 

I READ YOU IN ALL THE SLEEPLESS

CREASES YOU LEFT IN MY PILLOW,

THE WORDS YOU SPILLED IN THE

DREAMS WE USED TO SHARE. 

WE REACH FOR BOOKS THE WAY

WE REACH FOR OUR BEDS,

FOR COMFORT, FOR FAMILIARITY. 

WE LOVE THE WAY IT FEELS

WHEN OUR HEARTS BREAK 

THE SAME WAY WE BUILT THEM. 

THE BOOKS YOU’VE READ

YOU WILL READ AGAIN,

TIME WILL PASS AND YOU’LL

REMEMBER BEGINNINGS

BUT NOT HOW THEY END;

YOU WILL FALL ASLEEP IN THE

SAME SHAPE YOU ENDED

YOUR LAST STORY IN, BECAUSE

YOU’VE FORGOTTEN HOW TO CLOSE

YOUR EYES AND HOW TO START AGAIN. 

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE

MAKE STORIES OUT OF PEOPLE,

WHEN WE BRING THEM HOME WITH US

AND CREATE BOOKMARKS OUT OF ALL

THE PLACES WE USED TO MAKE LOVE. 

BUT BEDS ARE LIKE BOOKS,

I TELL MYSELF, TIRED AND WORN

TO THE BONE; AND THIS IS WHAT

IT LOOKS LIKE TO BE ADORED, 

I’VE BEEN TOLD. THIS IS WHAT

IT FEELS LIKE TO FALL IN LOVE

WITH STORIES THAT WERE NEVER

WRITTEN FOR YOU."

~    ||  MAZA-DOHTA

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