Cracked spine and no pages missing

Smoke in one mirror,

A cloth over the next one,

The third is broken.

I am like the dust on the shelves that being blown away

Turn into a magnificent translucent grey.

I am like the second hand book that has gone from demand to demand,

My cracked spine fits perfectly into your hand.

We are 12 in one row,

6 up high,

And we have all been read before.

I am you sitting on the floor reading the backs of everyone

That had the audacity to infiltrate your kingdom.

I am you sitting on the floor in the darkest of all the corners

And we are a front for an image of being a loner.

But don’t afraid like I once used to be.

We have loved many and how we do love still.

In time I became shattered and fragmented, surely.

Yet even chipped you can read me still.

Put the hood over your head and shine your light on me,

Take me home if you are able to love me.

I am just a name between many waiting to caught your eye.

The parrot behind the counter

And the one behind in the cage

Talk to you when you ring up your purchase

I am still on the shelf, where you decidedly put me back on to,

But do not worry leaving made me not stop loving you.

The stained curtains,

The thumbed slids and receipts

And yes even the bicycle in front of the door,

And the record collection,

And the random violin with the daisies

Will all be there if you ever come back

To find me again.

I will be there again,

If someone did not love me before you do.