3.
I am without page enumeration.
Allow me teach you what it’s like to lost inside the plot.
2.
Skim the words I contain and count
the chapters I have spoken by how
many times the mere sight of the grooves in my
binding signatures create single goose bumps upon your arm.
Let your eyes remind your shoulders
how soft I can be — whisper softly.
1.
I am violently inspired by springtime chilly breeze so soft
my delicate pages rip and ruffle within your clutches
opening me to the filo dough page three hundred and sixty one.
I scream and stretch like old glory in historic battlefields
once bloodied with emptied shells and ignorance.
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