My Books and Me
more than lover, actually; I’m more
of a lustful possessor. Or, I used
to be. Now I don’t know what I am
in my relationship with my books.
A very tired lover, perhaps; all used
up by the knowledge, wisdom,
and guidance that my books have
given me. But, try as I may today,
I cannot seem to find a book
that will light my fire like books
used to. I’m not burnt out. And
that’s the irony. I’m still on fire,
but not the same kind of ravishing
fire that books always inspired;
and—O, happy days! —I only read
books out of habit now, no longer
out of lustful desire.
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