you can’t defile a first edition

It's what I told a friend, handing her a book I found at a thrift store. A little known book, but a first edition just the same. It may never be worth anything, but you can't disregard it's status among other books.

Sometimes I feel like this, like I’m brand new, a minute old, pristine and so innocent. I’m no original. 'You’re one of a kind.' It’s just babble. We’re all the same when it comes to basics, just trying to survive.

A boy once told me something like “when you get to the end of the road, it’s better to have a worn out heart than a pristine one.” What does he know? I thought. I still think.

I like my pristine little heart all glittery and guarded by a fortress of emotions. You couldn’t break in if you tried with a jackhammer.

My 1st edition heart has been shelved a long time and it looks to be never read. My pages aren’t dog-eared, no one has left notes in the margins.

When I get to the end of my road, my heart won’t be worn out and maybe it will be priceless, a one of a kind first edition, still memorialized between it’s own covers.


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