I'm musing a text that reminds me of you.
It was sad and despondent and devastatingly beautiful.
The setting and the plot seem to foreign to me,
But I'm becoming more entice with every page that I read.
But the character flaws run deep.
It's the nature of things,
That nothing's ever perfect,
So we take the next best thing.
But the heroine's a cur,
The antagonist a cheat,
And she stays right by his side,
Through every lie that he breathes.
The tattered cover holds by a fiber or two,
And the spine is bent and cracked,
From undependable use.
The binding's come undone;
All the pages fall out,
But I'll sit and glue them back,
Every hour after hour.
But the text is fading fast,
With every chapter I go through,
And each cracked and gilded page,
Has me thinking of you.
But the story has a close,
With no redemption in sight,
So I'll sit here with a pen,
And these prayers for you tonight.
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