End of a Chapter.

And I feel it the slipping of your hand from mine the end of chapter, my hands shake. Not knowing if I can turn the last page. When my character meets her demise Scrawled in a black ink calligraphic script shaped with outstanding penmanship. It’s show’s artistic flair and with the nib of a pen I exit the storyline with perfect strokes of black ink I witness a plot twist I had not foreseen am I so blind to all the characters who took my words on the paper. I honestly thought they were all mine but maybe I missed a chapter in my contented fantasy. I am an avid reader.

 it’s not fiction I read but nonfiction and I was truly not aware of all the facts. As my hands flick to the end after playing my part with avid aplomb, I read it’s me not you and I think what a cliche. I close the book after giving a four-star review. Riveting full of surprises and put the memories of you and I back on the bookshelf. Battered spine to be left to collect dust over time.
I can say though in reflection I particularly enjoyed chapter three and I wipe the tears from my eyes and sip my hot tea and dunk my rich tea. Wondering if I want to read a book again as I am not sure I can trust myself anymore.

 I think now I create my own plot because I have always believed in fairy tales and happy endings. It’s made me go soft in my head and blind in my heart. Without any doubt I know I’ve got that right .