It's been five months since you My life is like a book that's cracked at the spine. Such a pitiful broken thing hidden behind beautiful words and pages unadulterated.
If only your hands would turn these pages, fingers caress my spine so carefully I could cry Maybe, just maybe, I could try my back could finally break under the weight of missing you and my pages could soar into the wind, burn in the sunlight Perhaps this book could be re-written, in a simpler prose with words like, "I" and "Love" and "You"
Each page read by both of us in a far more distant future Where books are obsolete and my mind could be read on a screen words that you looked at so lovingly once long ago. I did too, once. But my favorite story is one that never ends, as those shall I. Neverending. Moving. Changing. Growing. Discovering the stories I have yet to read, so that I could finally put down the subtext beneath me and you.