Scrap Paper

I am sufficiently inspired to start a thousand novels –

To write the opening pages that reach with gnarled fingers

Into reader’s hearts, the most intimate of introductions

Before any namesakes or history. It’s always the easiest,

After all- that first kiss of potential and immediate

Attraction to the protagonists as we imagine them to be,

Dangling between the words of the written world.

It is such a shame that they never survive long enough

To reach the afternotes. 

Subplots drop like decay

On a September afternoon, fates held captive by the wind alone.

I always forget the final direction, lose my way to the finish line

And in my indecision, I have condemned both hero and villain

To quiet, unremarkable deaths.

Submitted as part of the 2025 Humanities and Healing Event.

By Michelle Chin