When I walk amongst the shelves of the library it’s like I’m the pretty girl walking into the bar. All eyes are on me. Each book telling me to pick them. Asking to come home with me.

I pick out a few each time, usually returning the others. I have a two week stand with one. I can’t get it out of my head. I want to understand every inch of it. Explore it from end to end.

You never know when you’re going to fall in love. You never know what a book is going to do to you. There are ones that I barely remember. Lovers that didn’t register. But then there are others. Ones that stick with me. Stay on my skin. I can still recall them to this day.

I hold them in my memories. A warm, pleasant thing for cold, lonely days. I don’t know if I’ll ever love a book the way I love that one. I don’t know if it’ll ever come back around to it.

But like others, I’m going to keep trying. I’ll kiss a thousand frogs to find another prince. Because unlike humans, books don’t let you down in the same way. They at least take you on a little trip first. Instead of just leaving you alone in your bed and don’t call you back.

We listened in the dark awkwardly

As the couple argued 

The rising intensity of their anger 

Towards one another 

Then the slamming of a door 

A car pulling away 

And then his quiet sobbing 

This was the wrong night 

For a surprise party