You used to be a book I wanted to read
stories I wanted to explore
pages to go back to
movies to make out of.
You used to be something I cherished
to handle with care
and with fragility — — an underrated treasure.
When the season changed
and the stories no longer inspiring
I put you on the shelf
But still, I admired you
“I’ll get back to you,” I said.
Another season went by
and I was tempted to explore again
I picked you up and opened a couple of pages
“I’m inviting you to write with me again”, he said.
In which I say, “I’m not ready”.
Conscious of its pages withering,
I entertained picking up the pen
Until I realized,
this book is no longer the same —
no vibrant stories can exist in these pages for me now.
And what is the point
when the stories don’t inspire,
when the stories aren’t glistening anymore.
And so I say,
It’s time to remove you from this shelf
and this home.
A story that has met it’s ending
A story that I’m closing.
