these pages aren’t black and white

 We’re standing on the same page
in the same book
of diverging story lines
and there is nothing scarier
than being here with you

Let’s skip the parts about us
I’d rather be the voyeur
in the background of your stories
because I’ve got nothing to show
for this time apart
except predicable scars
and enough loneliness
to burn this book to cinders

I feel like a liar in my own story
where the sun comes up
and the sun goes down
and I remain like a stagnant ghost
on the same page of horrors
that have been re-lived so many times
they’re just a cliché of fears

You were born an adventure
made flesh and bone and mystery
though I’m scared you’ll become familiar
and boring
and everything I’ve learned to hate
in this world that demands routine
and commonplace excitement
never mind that you aren’t commonplace
or that you’ve never failed to spark me
into new shapes
every time our minds touch

I love the lack of disappointment you bring
when you stop by my page to breathe life
back into the cracked spine of my narrative
like I’m a novel worth reading
and not a series of unfinished short stories
no one will ever bother to read

And when it’s over
when the words of the paragraph
at the conclusion of this page, our page
end
I’ll bid you adieu
to go live more adventures
until the next time we meet
and I have something more interesting
to recount for the time we’ve spent apart

© Indie Adams 2016