Open Book

Date Unknown

He's an open book

That holds many secrets in the margins

He is without a cover

And that entices me

I wonder if I 

Can write myself in his pages

If I could have a chapter

Dedicated all to myself

For the words I have read in him

Indeed he has captured me

And if I could leave my mark on him

I could not be happier

He has become this writers muse

Faster than I could ever have imagined

But his tale inspires me

And for that

I fear for my fragile pen

As I write, 

I hope only 

That I do not run out of his ink