Paper Cut

Upon reading I stopped. Savoring this touch. I serached for narrative, your voice becoming my imagination. I made this read much longer than intended. Rereading each page minutes after the initial first. We both paused. Stumbling over each period. Passage after passage the last chapter revealing just how beautiful everything is. With neither joy or pain canceling each other out, both are necessary. A paper cut made in haste. Just as telling. The intense angle each word represents. The physical manifestation of not being able to move my eyes from the page. Loud noises created in silence. It seems real. Its chaos. Four seasons coming into one. This is life. At least for me. Rereading each volatile word finding vulnerability. A sudden fear that rises. A response that I over analyze in simplicity. You write and I read. A deeper motivation that isn't fear at all. The pages collapsing in recommendation. The intimate truth of holding everything in. The cover hesitant of letting go. All awaiting permission