A well written story encourages me to fall in love, again.
While I read,
While I watch.
Then it ends.
A well written tale of loves triumph over deleterious obstacles makes me want that same affection.
But, after what I’ve been through.
I feel that it just isn’t real.
If only I could take from a script, from a novella’s pages,
Remove the happy, determined protagonist, erase his or her name replacing it with mine.
I’ll be the star whose love on the screen or written pages become something sublime.
A well written story, actors that perform confidently with chemistry. Characters, their verses written down, speaking organically.
Another incredible love story is all I should need, to take me away from my own heart break for 110mins in a dark and slightly crowed room, or over 500 pages I’ll read.
Steady developing relationships draw me in
The setting for their first meeting,
Who made whom smile
And a well described first kiss.
Are all encouragement for me to fall into the whirl, into the the uncertainty of love again.
Then I am in left in limbo…
The story always ends.