Hello, there.

Being a lover of poetry, I wrote this poem with a particular situation in mind. However, as I keep reading it over and over again,

I realize that it can be interpreted in many ways.

As the title suggests, "The Open Book" is now yours to read.

Take it however it resonates.

An open book in front of you.

Oh, don't you want to read?

Words spilling over the paper

Describing love and greed;

An open book in front of you,

Do you want to see?

It was all written for your eyes and soul

wanting them to be freed;

An open book in front of you

won't you pick it up?

Glance over a few pages,

And maybe then,

decide to give up?

An open book in front of you,

As it lays there vulnerably

Why don't you hold with your hands

so tight

and touch it, gently

The open book in front of you

You do not dare to read

The open book in front of you, it

just needs your feels

The open book in front of you

Deprived of love and affection,

the open book in front of you

that begs for your attention

The open book in front of you as

it waits there patiently;

I was the open book,

But you didn't like to read.