The One Among The Pages

“Pick me, pick me, and pick me oh!
Its been so long, sniffing the pages raw".
That one has been playing through my mind since what seems to be like a decade.
Keeping track of time has always been difficult for me but I sure can smell ages of dust filled in these letters. Locking me up in here was never her choice but somewhere she lost track, abandoned me and then maybe failed to recollect about it. I don't see her anymore she has gone astray, she never came back to pull me out of this. But I still keep waiting for her for she is my only chance to move out.

Our little bond was always special. The way she needed me to support her, to remind her where she left her work, to guide her on her next move and to be just beside her while she is reading her book. Sometimes I used to play hide and seek with her just to see the desperation in her eyes while looking for me under the couch, on the table and all over the place. I knew at that point that I meant a lot to her. I silently used to watch her emotions and expressions while she flipped through those pages and I used to admire the bibliophile in her, for reading was not just her hobby but her inexorable passion.

But my fallacies didn't last too long for she changed and things started getting cold. Our meetings gradually shortened and finally she left me here with an unfinished job.

I have already read every word in these pages a million times and she is not yet back.
Dust filled air have started choking me up a bit. Now how long will I have to wait for her hands to fall on me and make me free.

Who am I, you would ask.
Well, I am a bookmark! How silly is that?

#the_story_of_a_bookmark