thats all you will be to them.

In time, maybe, you'll meet someone
whose hands only touch paper,
their palms forever open and
marked with minute cuts.
They will write postcards
on your feet and plays
in your chest. They will
fill you with words,
write novels about you,
show that maybe words
can outweigh actions.
You'll become a book
filled with their thoughts.

Maybe you'll meet someone with
conductor fingers and
piano hands. They will be
able to play symphonies
along the ivory notches of
your spine and conduct
orchestras with your
vocal cords. They will play you
like an instrument,
treat you like the audience,
invite you back stage but