I went into the bookshop.
Bought myself a novel.
It was a little tatty.
But, it did not bother me.
It was known to be a classic write, full up with grand description.
Became incredibly exciting full up with fractious fireworks.
Kept me occupied.
I found myself engrossed.
Such words I'd never read before.
The author knew how to transfix the reader, with his very potent words.
I could not put it down.
Read it in detail from cover to cover.
More engrossed in that book than my lover.
He tried to tease me, tried to raise a bit more than a smile.
I snarled at him leave me alone for a while.
Can't you see I'm stuck in my book.
I ignored him.
Turned my back to face the wall.
Next the saddest thing of all.
I got to the last couple of pages in my book and someone had carefully cut them out.
I got so cross.
So very hot.
You must by now realise that I had the missing pages had lost me the plot.
Serves me right.
Should never buy books from the charity shop.
(C) Livvi