Bookshelf

If my heart were a book she'd dance across the pages. Unfolding the creases folded for a later time Replacing them with the bookmark of her kiss. Opening each page, carefully reading with the glimpse of each truth, The resuscitation of closed pages Now able to breathe. A survivor of tarnished pages and beaten cover. She didn't seem to mind, carefree, joyful, what possessed her smile. Reminding me of a better me, the well being of my very soul laid in her hands without need for a shelf