Life is Not a Book strips sentiment from nostalgia and leaves behind its raw remains. Bold, biting, and unflinchingly clear eyed, this poem challenges the romantic idea of life as a tidy narrative. Instead, it makes space for the grief of finality. Some chapters of life close without ceremony, and we don’t get to reread them. This poem is for who’ve stared down the ashes of their past and decided to find beauty in its ashes. Not everything gets a sequel, and that’s the point.