Stained Paper

((I was going to wait to do my Friday post for after my friend's birthday party, but I think I'll update about that on Monday instead. For now, I don't have anything prepared, and I have to go to work soon... Hopefully. So here is, once again, so pre-written stuff.))

It’s a drug, and I’m not ashamed to say I’m addicted. 

I can’t bring myself to put it down, 
Not even when my eyes are lead or the clock flashes one a.m. 
It’s intoxicating, it’s enthralling. 
It’s my life. 

I share their breath, their fear, their thoughts, their worries. 
Their lives. 
I feel their pain when they get hurt, 
And the cold hand of the Reaper when they die. 
My stomach plummets and my heart soars 
To match their every feeling. 
These people are made of ink and paper, 
And the imagination of their creator. 
I drink in every word, 
And I’m left thirsty for more. 

One more page and I’ll put it down. 
Oh please, let me just finish this chapter. 
Give me a minute; I’m almost done the book. 
And with a sigh of remorse, I place it back on the bookshelf 
After the last page is turned. 
And reach to pick up another. 

These books are my drug. 
I crave the worlds someone has created, 
I need the escape from reality, 
I lust for the fantastic stories of knights, dragons and magic. 
And when it’s over, I know I must have more.