The life of an INFJ

September 4, 2016

I’m an open book
If only you’d read me

But no one walks to my section of the library

Too mysterious
Too quiet
Too private
They whisper in their minds
As their feet carry them past me

Invisible, it seems
As if others are blindfolded
To the light

Every day, the same.
Hello, Goodbye.
It was nice meeting you?

A few readers walk to me.
Snatch my binding
Look at the plain cover
Shove me back on the shelf

A few linger.
Intrigued by my simple cover;
Light blue, gray, white.
Like wispy clouds and sea foam

Ears listen to my words
But only a few of them
Leaving, saying, ‘I’ll come back’

I can’t even remember their names

I stop.
Someone is staring
Staring at my plain sea foam cover
As if
In me a galaxy of lights exists

You gently opened the cover.
Read the title page, the ISBN number even

Every day you read my words

And somehow,
You saw me.

Not my plain cover.
Not the daunting enormity of words you knew you’d be getting yourself into
Not even the rips and stains
and others who’d gone
had left on me

You saw the words.
The black ink of every letter.

Every day you left me
Not saying ‘I’ll come back’

You whispered
‘I’ll remember you. No matter what happens’

No empty promises. Thank you.

But you told me what I longed to hear
It was a dangerous thing.
And a precious thing

I’ll remember you
You didn’t walk past my section of the library
I see you
Convinced, you weren’t intimidated by the darkness; you were never blindfolded
You’re a galaxy of lights

One day, you did nothing but smile.
‘I’ve spoken to the Librarian’

My eyes widen
No one dare speaks to the Librarian.

‘You’re a one of a kind book, you know that?’

I’d thought so before, selfishly,
Never had I know it was real

You pick me up
I see the scars on your hands
Smooth fingertips chose me from the shelf yesterday

You actually noticed me thinking
‘You’re worth it’,
You say

I stare.
I see a galaxy of lights within you

You take me home
And I am never set on a shelf
I reside next to your heart, always

To the one who read even my ISBN number
To the one who saw a galaxy of lights
To the one who looked past my simple cover
To the one who has scars for me

I hope I meet you one day

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juniormint said...
Jan. 24 at 12:55 am
Oh I love love LOVE! This is so special. The metaphor is absolutely perfect. We are all books, some torn to shreds and some just slightly worn. He loves and reads all of them with perfect understanding.
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