I Know How This Book Ends

On pulling a book from my shelf today,
Another fell with it.
(They are tightly packed, I have so many.)
It lay open on the floor,
Its inner organs exposed.
Without thinking too much about it,
I picked it up,
Looked at the cover,
And then glanced at the open pages.
It was a book I’d read before.
As I read the words offered to me
The scene began to unfold;
A love scene.
Passionate, hungry, physical.
A raw, undeniable love
Only found in books
And yet so very real.
The trouble is,
I know how this book ends.
Yet, I found an odd comfort in the knowledge that,
Once upon a time,
These two characters were in love,
And wanted to let each other know that.
I felt the weight of the story in my hands,
And the sincerity of their love.
Suddenly aware that I had walked in on their love-making,
And feeling strangely embarrassed,
I closed the book tight,
Slipped it back onto the shelf 
And left it well alone.

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