Am I a book to you?

How does it feel like
reading me?
Seeing my thoughts,
words and feelings.
Licking your fingers
before you turn my pages.
Making me open up
from where you last left me.
Using me to learn
how to love and live.

How does it feel like
putting me back on the shelf?
After knowing me too well
until there is nothing more to know.
Cause now I have to start again
the same old troubled story,
with the one who
picks me next.
© shee