The Boys Who Never Liked to Read
You always wished
that you could meet a boy
in the book store
or the library
as a coincidence
while you were both reaching
for your favourite book
from the shelves,
but those kind’ve coincidences
only come in fairytales.
The boys you liked
never really liked to read,
so, it explains how
-when they picked up the book of you-
they were enticed by your cover
took interest in your table of contents…
yet the more they read
the less they enjoyed.
The more they read
the less effort they put in
to keep your pages clean
they left dog ears, spilled their coffee
and ripped your pages out from
the sheer frustration
“When will this story end?!”,
they’d yell, cursing your truth
at the wind until finally
they stopped reading altogether.
They’d throw your story down,
figuring they can
toy with your pages a little,
setting fire to the words within you
-words too “big” for their tastes-
and in the same breath
turned their heads away
in interest for shiny new toys
that caught their eye
instead
“Why should I try so hard to read something
I’ll never understand?”
Why indeed, when you can play instead.
So, they leave you,
your words, your truth,
and your stained, burned, damaged cover
and story of tattered pages
to rot, no hesitation.
There are so many chapters within you
they don’t even get through
a quarter before they’re fed up
and you begin to wonder
if you’re just a horrible story,
but that isn’t it.
Your plot was too complex,
your vocabulary too vast,
and your cliffhangers too abrupt,
for an easily distracted mind to be mindful of.
And because they don’t read
they don’t know that
the best part of the book always
comes at the end.
Oh,
if only they realized
how rewarded they’d be
if they just made the effort
-used their fingers to skim your lines,
to pick up the underlying messages,
between the letters on your pages-
to lock themselves inside their homes
for a weekend because they’re so riveted
that they want nothing more than
to finish devouring
the story of you…
But none who have been
drawn in by your cover,
sliding their fingers in
and along your pages
have ever thought that you were
good enough for them to stay
so,
you’re left waiting
for the day you
finally happen upon
a boy who loves to read.