Flesh and Book

Yeah you're nice

You're thoughtful

Your words carefully spun across the page like partners in a dance

You look amazing

Every fantasy

Brought to life in the way only fiction can ever possibly achieve

Yet my friend

You're not

The one I think of when I read about your exploits in romance

Your perfect traits

Pale when

Compared to the honest imperfections of my real love

In the end

You're just

A mirror that reflects the bits and pieces I see in another

And I would

Rather have

Warm flesh and blood in my arms than a cold book in my hands