Teardrops Turned To Words

just a book

her nimble fingers traced themselves along the hardback cover as she turned a page, further delving into the world she could never be a part of. she read like the ink from the pages were oxygen and she was gasping for breath. she read about the people she could never be, the adventures she could never have, the love she could never feel, the magic she could never touch; yet at the same time she lived through it all, as her eager eyes darted across the pages consuming every word. her eyes they glowed with amusement, shimmered with happiness, narrowed in frustration, shut in anger, and shone with tears. she felt all the characters did, so much empathy, so much understanding; all for people who'd never existed, who never would. she fell in love with the smell of the pages and the feel of them between her fingers, longing for the pages to multiply, the book to last longer. her head filled with other worlds, better worlds than the crumpling one around her. her heart raced, knowing that she drew closer and closer to the end, but her hands refused to let go, refused to deprive her of what was to happen next. her breath, it catches. she's deaf to the world, lost, or perhaps​ she is found in a world of paper, ink, and abstract thoughts. then, all too soon, she is dragged back to reality as she reads the two words she had been dreading so terribly: the end. she shuts the book feeling disoriented and dazed from her sudden change of reality. the characters she thought she'd known so well had left, they'd disappeared, like a voice being carried away by wind; the ones she'd cried with, saved the day with, laughed with, mourned with, and loved so dearly with. she hugs the book to her chest a melancholy smile on her lips, fully knowing she'd never know any more or any less about the people she'd read of. her heart aching at the thought and yet she'd always come back the next day for more, to reread, to relive. but for now, just this moment in time she'd sleep. she would fall asleep looking upon the stars, wishing for everything her dear characters had had. she'd dream of the heartwarming smell of old paper, the feeling of them between her fingers, and the way the inked words came off the pages to create her safe haven, her own world, knowing her loving characters were awaiting her arrival to relive the adventure. and she did it all hidden away in her silent bedroom with what people had called just a book.