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Bibliophile
I have laid eyes upon an interesting book
The cover seemed to have caught my eye
Beautiful colors, intricate craftsmanship
Oh, delightful!
Pink, gold, white
A spine worth tracing my finger upon
To assess the pages within should be honorary
A privilege to touch
How I wanted thee
But I simply could not wait any longer
I force open the book
How effortless that was
Orange, yellow, green
To feel this potency travel through me
I begin to stare down at the words
Like a wolf drools at the sight of its prey
I could not care about the complexity of it’s writing
Or how long the author must’ve taken to perfect it
It was too divine to put down
Too breathtaking to stop
I can’t get enough
Red, black, blue
What did the book say?
Was the story worth reading?
Oh silly me,
The binding was alluring. Surely the exterior neutralizes my actions
Why was it so irresistibly drawn if the main purpose was intended for me to peruse what was inside?
I need it no longer.
How ambiguous.
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This poem is up to interpretation based on the reader.