Books and women share a spine.
One is judged by how well it holds together. The other by how long it can.
We call them well-read well-bread well-bound,
ironic how every compliment sounds like a way to keep something closed.
A bent page becomes a bookmark. A bent woman becomes a warning.
I wonder how many of us mistook breaking for opening.
Or whether we were simply taught, that a cracked spine is easier to forgive on a book, than on a woman.