It always seems like it’s best to prepare
Like if I could just desensitize myself enough
To the pain of finding her there
absent, dim, grey
Then I could accept a life that isn’t filled
with PG movies, school functions or socks on the floor.
Maybe there is beauty in the next chapters…
But it never works out that way
because if you are to find them
It’s always a surprise.
It’s always when you are busy thinking about
what to make for Sunday dinner
or planning that next business move
that the book snaps shut right under your nose.
Oh, and how they say that you can write your own story!
Wouldn’t I write the story where we all come out
present, clear, bright?
I might reside in these pages
but I am captive in this story.
I cling to the present word while
the author pens my fate
and I only hope that as the pages get filled
the genre of my story won’t be