I was never this soft
So breakable
I was a hard cover book
Strong and new
That you bent back to read
Allowing myself to be so easy.
Now my spine is broken
Cover clearly used
Abandoned,
Alone,
Abused
How could you?
My story remains
With pages still intact
Someone else will come along
Gentle enough
To repair my broken back.
I’m fragile
Susceptible to further damage
Cracked down the middle
Barely hanging
Slowly healing
Does this story get a sequel?
Another chance for something real
I’m fearful I’ll never recover
With pages badly wilted
Discolored
Torn, and bent back.
Greasy thumbprints
Smeared along my text
Leaving permanent imprints
On my once pretty print.
My story has changed too.
How could this remain a fairytale,
After consuming the forbidden fruit?
I’m half dead
And my book
Has been read through
By someone who skipped ahead
Just to know the end
And stupidly,
I let them.
Thinking that if they knew
All the secrets of my story
The struggles
The success
My journey
They would love me
Not leave me.
If only I kept my chapters safe
Knowing I’m worthy
For a slower pace
Not rushed through
And read in a day.
You might have read the ending
Little do you know
That was the preface.
Better yet,
I’ll remove you completely
Editor’s revision says
There is no space for you here.
Backspace, delete.
Now you're just history
All that is left
Is to empty the trash bin.