as the pages turn and our story grows
your once obvious feelings become reluctant to show
your intentions remain hidden, burried under the shelf
the edges are bent, the pages are weathered
not even a clue in the world you have yourself!
eventually, our pages together will no longer be marked
my bookmark will fall out and be torn apart
so please, not a sentence we have to wait
no fragment, paragraph, nor phrase be left out
add in your details, restate your plot
maybe our tale can end as good as we once thought

I wouldn't have to worry about getting a text back
Or finding a date to the Homecoming Dance.
I wouldn't have to worry about applying makeup to hide the imperfections that consume my face.
I wouldn't have to listen to a fighting, broken family.
I wouldn't have to deal with a "best friend" who continues to betray and backstab.
I would be a peace with it all.
I would be alone with no care in the world.
Maybe some of us are happier 10 feet underneath the Earth.