Novelty
The worn edges and bent corners
told of their repeated connections
where she had held it lovingly
slowing fingering the words
of its story,
the story
that she believed.
Then a friend
ran with urgency
to show her another writing
that showed things
from a different point of view.
She devoured it,
shocked and provoked and betrayed,
the words denying what she knew
to be true.
But this was clearly labeled:
NON-Fiction.
Her story
now tainted,
her reality defined
by the words
of her friend
and a writer
who she never met,
but now blindly believed.
Without a sideways glance
she threw her love in the trash.
The book worm has a head on it’s shoulder, and has not been caught up in the storm, or wind, or cold.
I’m just assuming that you’re the “writer friend”. How is your friend now?
I don’t know if it’s only my imagination but your words vividly created a scene in my head.
Silent Poet,
I am actually the reader easily swayed by the shocking reality that others expect me to believe. Over the years, I am learning to be less quick to react. How am I now? Mellowing into an old crone! HA! Wise enough to know what I lost. Wise enough to know what I’ve gained. Thanks for your questions.