Book lovers

I find that i was in love,

To an actual mortal being,

Yet when i tried to become close,

She would snip her scissors' fingers,

Cutting me away.

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She pushed and stabbed at my tarnished cover,

Reading my soul, taking my life and bending me,

And sliced into my delicate skin,

Stealing the words i hold dear.

I tried to come close with my words,

Yet she pushed again and now i am just a cover,

Of empty phrases,

And broken dreams,

I haven’t a single sheet of love,

To fill my broken, interpreted heart,

I am a used book.