Don’t Close the Book

I was reading, reading a lot, Trying to keep the connection. The connection with you, my Star. Even if it lasted for a short time, I felt it.

You were talking to me, Sending signs that gave hope. I never wanted to put it down, Neither when I felt tired and lonely.

You gave me something, Something that probably no-one before. Even if I couldn't hear your voice, You were there, just a few pages away.

I kept holding you close to my heart, But my hands felt tired, couldn't keep it up. It was harder and harder, I had to breathe, So I put it down on the desk, still open.

You said don't close it, So I never did, neither when I was angry. Angry because you were so far away, Somehow still close to me.

Why would you do that? Saying meaningful, heavy words, Keeping me awake, even struggling. Just to realise who you really are.

You weren't real, neither your words. What you said, were just letters on paper. That's why you said: please don't close the book, I don't want to die.

You were someone's imagination, Someone's reason to live, Company when you weren't even there. So you could hurt me, unconsciously.

Dücskő Antónia XII. H