(NOT A POEM)
We are just a paper apart. You are reading me like I'm some character in a novel. I guess I am for you....but only if you knew I could see you from here. Then, could you be mine? You turn the pages with your long and beautiful fingers with jet black , deshieveled hair. Your eyes look as if holding a hidden story you've never told anyone. I wish I could be the first one to hear it. If only these writings could disappear then maybe I could finally meet you? But the story is coming to an end. I'm afraid cause when you close the book I might disappear with only your reflection left as a memory...slowly fading away........while you forget about me thinking about some other character.
© Anshika Srivastava