Bookstore Lover

I know you. That day you walked into my life was the most memorable moment, the scariest moment.

The bookstore, the smell of books, new and old. An ideal place for a chance meeting. Looking like a stranger, but feeling like a character in a book looking for a secret scroll I saw you walking around, not looking for a that particular one, but I'd already picked you. You were going to be mine, I was going to steal you away to where ever you wanted to go. Go on an adventure with the Hobbits, take a downtown stroll to the Institute, volunteer as a tribute, wear a flapper dress and have a party with Gatsby or have a martini with Mr Bond, I can take you there. If only you'd let me.

You barely glanced in my direction that day, but I could tell you'd be back, my book store lover. I wished for your return, if only I were not too late and some other had taken you from me. I wanted you to be the Harry to my Ginny, the Catherine to my Heathcliff, my soul mate, I only needed you.

And as if by magic, you were back. My bookstore lover, my bookworm, my world. I can see that look in your eye, looking for that special one, something that had been missing before. Around the shop you search, like Harry for a Horcrux, or Number 6 for his way out; when will you realise I'm right here?

You stop, right beside me, looking out the corner of your eye, as though you heard. I wonder if you'd noticed me before, I felt your eyes raking me over, my spine tingling. They've said never judge a book by its cover and I could feel your eyes looking straight at my soul. You were mine, I'd captured your eye and now I was capturing your heart. Gently you touched me, a little stroke down my spine that made me shiver with delight. Such a chance meeting would never happen again in any history books, not the once I knew anyway. I could feel the eyes of my friends, jealous but happy. It was a rare chance to gain such freedom and this day, freedom had picked me. But it was more than that. I had the desire within never to let you go, never in a million years would I forget that sweet caress, that formidable look that so captured our hearts in a fiery tangle.

Before that day was out, I was in your arms, making a home in your home. I clung to you for dear life, waiting for tonight. But that night never was, you had work, you had family. I lay upon the floor feeling hopeful, but unloved and I didn't know if I'd cope without you. Sleep took over all night and no matter how loud I pleaded for you to pick me up, you would not.

Days passed, weeks even and I just lay there waiting for you. Every time I saw you I wanted to scream, but you'd glance at me and smile. A smile that said, soon my love, soon. But soon seemed like too long and I was growing tired and jealous. Reality was keeping us apart, no adventures were important enough for you, even when I pleaded. I might as well have been left in the bookstore, where at least I had my friends, and I could talk about the latest gossip and dream of our homes.

Then, one day your gentle hands once again touched my spine and I tingled with joy. It was going to be the best night of your entire life, my bookstore lover, but you just don't know it yet. You lay with me on the bed, and I could feel your eyes undressing my nature and reading between the lines. Then you opened me up and you entered me, becoming mine with all your body and soul, like I was Tom Riddle's Diary and you Harry Potter. Caressing my whole essence we spent the most wonderful night together, me and my bookstore lover. I could never forget the way you laid me down and stroked my skin and whispered goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow in the sexiest way possible.

But, when I think back, you finished me within days, then I was just another part of your collection that grew dust and cried. I felt so used that I never wanted you to pick me up again, but of course, years later you did and I fell right back into your arms. But I was so shocked one day, to find myself in the dark surrounded by all your other undesirables, waiting for the curtain call. I cried so much that I felt drowned in my own tears. Then I saw the light and thought the sweet touch of your hands was once again going to engulf me, but these were not the hands of my bookstore lover.

I don't regret my love for you, my bookstore lover, and I'm sure there's your true match is out there somewhere, but I want you to know I'm happy too. I wait in the old bookstore once again, surrounded by old friends and new. Some days I see you walking passed, glancing longingly through the window, but my heart does not hurt as it used too. My futile longings were stifled by my bookstore lover and I wait for a new person. This person will not be my lover but a friend, and all I will be is a good book.

Thank you, my bookstore lover, your love made me strong.