The pages were gold.
It was searching for it’s new victim, while its future victim was searching for it.
The victim wanted the book to be amongst all of her organs-within her control.
The aroma escaping it was bold,
It held the victim with two strong hands, the scent remaining adrift.
The pages smelt of gold.
Taking it with her hands, she felt warm, she was no longer cold.
The smooth words built a fireplace in her, she wasn’t aware of the feelings it could inflict.
She wanted the book to be amongst all of her organs-within her control.
She resisted holding it her against her body; flipping the through the gold, it was in her hold.
She read the words, tripped over reluctant ones, and took her time while the book was rebuilt.
The pages were her gold.
The book did as it was told,
It shattered the girl, put her back together, and yet she only felt it a bit.
The book wanted her to be amongst all of its paragraphs and chapters-within its control.
Their wishes came true, they remained in each other until they were old
And the warmth they felt was reminisced.
Oh, how those pages were truly gold.
She wanted it to be amongst her organs while it wanted her to be amongst its paragraphs and chapters-within each other’s control.