allyson17white

To all the books I haven't read: I have become your bookshelf of dusted titles and busted spines with arms that are full of fantasy and romance and a head full of memoirs I haven't written, their lexicon curling my tongue around five dollar word-plays just behind the sheaf of my teeth. With definitions straight to the point and description airy and lofted a dictionary defenestrates pages that whirl into the night, petal papers gliding like elegant prose in a blank journal. There is no table of contents to map your way; follow the veins ink leaves in the margins of my palms because the books I've read tell me if they give you ruled pape