Your Favourite Novel Poem by Rifhan Miller

You should know, I’ve only loved with my head
Even though my heart has ached with yearning
My heart: It was never an open book
I wrote what only looked good for reading.

It has labeled bookmarks, and dividers on the right
They’re names: and they only see what I’ve selected inside
Left a coffemark and lipstick stain
A doodle on the margins, an inkblot, watermarks,
Smeared drawings, and a greasy blemish,
Highlighting only the paragraphs they’d cherish
And remember me by.

But with you; you were the hand that flipped the pages
You: you were the ink that completed my sentences
You: you filled in the empty spaces
You illustrated my thoughts at the beginning of every chapter
And stamped “The End” before “And they lived happily ever after”

When you run your fingers through its pages
Don’t you know it feels like they’re running through my hair?
You have left it worn and dog-eared
But that somehow gave its character and flair
It is the most honest fiction
Without the blatantness of a diary

Take it along with you like your favorite novel,
Hold it close to your chest like a bible.
Keep it right next to your heart in your front pocket
And refer to it like a manual.