That Feeling
when there are less pages ahead
than you’ve read
when you can’t read on
but you can’t stop
when you are unaware of the words
only of how they make you feel
when the story lifts the window-shades on so much ugliness
shines barely a salt-pinch of hope
when the ending is too far away
and too too close
when you are gob-smacked, breath-holding
utterly wrung-out
when you finish
when it’s done
when it’s over
yet still you carry it, chew it
think it
talk it
even when you are sure you can never write again
because you will never be that good
drink it share it live it
because this is how it’s done