where he read it, his head rested against the head board
with a floral-covered pillow for comfort
as she turned each page of the book he lent her
to read while he was away that day
her elbows turned red and itchy
from rubbing against the table top
he turned the pages faster than she did
soaking up the plot, letting his imagination fill in the gaps as he slept
she labored over every word
studying the language as if new to her
they read it all, every word, differently
and understood the story in different ways
one came away with morals
one with corruption
but they both held each other tight in the nights
following each horrific chapter
of their day to day struggles,
their life, reflected upon white pages in black printed ink
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