What Lies On The Shelf

Break my spine.
Run your fingers
Feather soft
Across my skin.

Rip me, tear me.
Twist my ears.
Scream at me and
Make me bleed my words out
In a dust worn sigh.

Throw me around
Until you're finished with me
And I have satisfied
Your ever thirsty mind.
Perhaps one day
You shall peruse my face once more,
And I shall arouse the fires
Of your soul
In the torch lit light
Of the dark.