Book Grief

by lonewolfpoetry

I feel the paper wedge

in my right hand thinning.

The wedge in the left

gradually building,

creeping up silently.

My mind refuses to entertain

the possibility of this ending,

of losing new friends,

new towns,

new worlds.

I ration the final chapters

to keep them alive but

the end is inevitable.

And I shall grieve a little death

with a small sigh

as I look upon the final dot

and close the back page

for the final time.

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