reunited

It's been a while since I last put my fingers in you--caressed your pages with my prose. Thankfully, you're not a jealous or vindictive lover. You tolerate my fumbling attempts at getting back on track, and even though I misplace a comma or drop a letter here or there, you're still willing to passively lay there and let me have my way with you. Fuck, I'm fantasizing about you as a piece of parchment, instead of this behind the glass page, something solid to hold in my hands. Oh, if you were paper, I might tear your edges, crumple you, and bind you into a book...