book lovers
there is no pain
as bittersweet as that of an ending.
a book coming to a close.
steeling myself to let go of
characters that have wormed
their way into my heart.
knowing that in this universe,
i can never feel these words
for the first time again.
as the chapters thin,
i hold on tighter,
leaning toward and away.
needing to find out
what the final scene is,
but dreading the last page ache.
the closer i get,
i drag my heels,
going over each page slower.
wishing i had not torn
through the initial parts,
but savoured them just a little longer.
i go back to sentences
that twist my heartstrings,
wondrous magic of creation.
turning each page with
building reluctance,
my emotions cresting as the book stops.
it is that abrupt.
a word. a period.
and hours of my time unmoored.
how do i start over?
i keep this one as a fresh-pressed memory.
and crack open new pages.
allowing myself to be swept
up, up, and away,
in the comforting embrace again.