Title from Wilco (MySpace)
On the first day we met, she said, "I'm damaged."
I was a little dog-eared, with frayed edges and tenderly ripped pages.
Everyone was, right?
Turns out she has been ripped right down the spine and stapled back together.
Her cover drooped off and her words were gray ghosts on yellow pages.
It was a book I couldn't read.
There were pages I couldn't finish,
paragraphs I just skimmed,
and more than a couple chapters I tore out myself,
grinning with malice and a vicious frustration.
And once I'd flipped to half-way through,
once I'd dumped the loose pages out on the floor
and bent that weak spine back further than it ever should've gone,
I dropped that book into a donation bin
hoping someone would treat it more tenderly than I ever could.
On the first day we met, she said, "I'm damaged."
I was a little dog-eared, with frayed edges and tenderly ripped pages.
Everyone was, right?
Turns out she has been ripped right down the spine and stapled back together.
Her cover drooped off and her words were gray ghosts on yellow pages.
It was a book I couldn't read.
There were pages I couldn't finish,
paragraphs I just skimmed,
and more than a couple chapters I tore out myself,
grinning with malice and a vicious frustration.
And once I'd flipped to half-way through,
once I'd dumped the loose pages out on the floor
and bent that weak spine back further than it ever should've gone,
I dropped that book into a donation bin
hoping someone would treat it more tenderly than I ever could.
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