By Isreal John
I was reading a book
Its pacing was slow and
All I could think of was what I didn’t know
Would its end be explicit?
Never needing another look
Or would it be quick, leaving me shook?
I waited and waited
Chapter by chapter
It all felt the same
It all felt the same
Nothing and nothing
Word by word
It all felt the same
It all felt the same
How could I keep going?
How could I keep reading?
I knew I shouldn’t have-
I knew it would end anyway but…
No
I needed to know, what this end would show
And so
Being weak, I took a peak.
And on the last page, my final thoughts were
Would it change me?
Would it change you?
Would it truly end?
A part of me hoped not
I said with great shame
