the Great Editor's Tome

Clumsy, cantankerous tome
Bowing the table before me
The weight of life gracing each page
and oh...
it is ponderous indeed

Chapters for each love affair
All shorter (or longer) in duration than intrinsically necessary
considering the amount of spine occupied

Snippets and tidbits
in margins and dog-eared corners
Compliments and enticement
(so noted)
Criticisms and excrement
(absorbed or ignored depending)
Each swallowed with grains of sea salt or spoonfuls of granulated sugar

The foundation of childhood is the first quarter of the book, at least
The reparation of said childhood is double that again in length
(with footnotes on various therapeutic practises in the index)

Yet, where is the pride?
The lightning-born words?
Where are the odes to the battle?
Where are the frantic journal entries?

Hopefully not undersized compared to the Editor's arrangement of fate and chance,
nor lacking in vulnerable illustrations and doodles

Large and cumbersome,
it looks awkward next to the other books
Almost innocent in comparison  despite its deadly content

Eyeing it askance as the pages fill daily,
remembering in the end
no one ever really enjoys knowing the spoilers

Not, like, really really

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