Self-Care
I am a book, forgotten and old,
Bound in leather, my pages unfold
Tales of self-care, a desperate plea,
Awaiting the touch of a heart set free.
Dust has settled on my spine,
Awaiting the day that will be mine,
When someone will reach for me,
With aching soul and desperate plea,
To delve into my words of grace,
And find solace in my embrace.
I yearn for the feel of trembling fingers turning my pages,
The sound of choked sobs as secrets are shared,
The warmth of a reader's tears,
As they absorb my message with fears.
I long to be held, to be clutched tight,
To be passed from one aching hand to another,
To be loved and remembered,
Not just a relic of a bygone era.
I am more than just ink on paper,
I am a lifeline, a beacon of hope,
Offering comfort and wisdom,
To those who seek a path to cope.


#UnopenedPages
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