I'll eat up any fables or fairy tales you throw at me, and I'll laugh or cry with glee as I digest the delicate stories that have alliterations, synonyms and idioms galore.

I'll swallow the glossy covers with care, savoring the stunning image that was carefully drawn on top according to the author's imagination.

Chapter One will lethargically be tossed down my throat as I take in the first inked words on the thick yellowed pages, the words staining my tongue a delightful black.

Chapter Two will be thrown into my mouth, eager to take in more of the beautiful words I have quickly become enraptured with.

Chapter Three will be the start of the blur of the quickness of the story, as the story seems to become reality and the real world the daydream.

The rest of the book shall pass by my lips and into my stomach, the acidic liquids burning it the bits, savoring the last words of it until the last chapter.

The Final Chapter, the one that ends the story I have doted on for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months... is painfully fast. And then I taste the last word on the page, and my stained-black mouth, my eyes squinting around the room, wishing for darkness for the of my reading lamp light has made my hazel eyes tired.

Voraciously I scan the room for more books, more books with glossy, picturesque covers and thousands of words that will stick in my throat and stain my teeth a black that reminds me of a bottomless abyss of ink.