An Ode to 'People Reading'

I remember the first poem I ever wrote about you ​­

​­          how at first I had no intention to share it with you

I'd never written anyone a poem --

​­          at least not that I'd shared with them

I actually wasn't totally familiar with writing ​­love poetry

I wrote about what inspired me,

​­          sadness, loneliness, pain, fear.

Then I found that you inspired me

I compared you to a book

​­          one I was dying to read

​­          destined to be my favorite book

I remember the first poem I ever wrote to you

​­          a letter in verse

I remember writing it

​­          trying to find a way to convey my sincerity

When I wrote that one, I knew I had to share the first

​­          as well

I remember sharing those two poems with you

​­          how nervous I was

You liked them, or some part of them

​­          enough that you asked to borrow them

I said "of course," wondered to myself ​­

          what you intended to do with them.

I've written nearly a hundred since those first two

​­          the novelty's worn off, it seems

I write them anyway

I write them with the same

​­          wonder and sincerity as the first

I share them with the same

​­          nervousness

I write them still

​­          because I love you with such a ferocity it hurts

I share them still

​­          because I want you to know this

If ever do we part

​­          I want you to know you've been loved

Unconditionally, without reservation

​­          with everything I have

I pray you never settle for anything less

​­          than the love you deserve.

You are still, will always be

​­          my favorite book

No matter how many times I read you,

​­          when you're old and worn out and falling apart

I'll turn the pages delicately and with reverence

​­          I will still read you.