stopping point

he wasn’t sad
or angry
or bitter
or lonely
or chagrined

he wasn’t heartbroken
or sick

he was just done.

the void
has a way
of insinuating itself
into the most
mundane days
or sending a tendril
to darken
the brightest ones.

it was then
as he made a pot of coffee
too late
into the evening
for someone
struggling
with insomnia
that the void
whispered urgently.

no,
he wasn’t sad
or angry
or bitter
or lonely
or even
chagrined.

he was tired
and
he was done.

some people
avoid spoilers
others read
the last page first,

he decided
that this was his
stopping point
and closed the cover
leaving
so many pages

blank.

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