Unfinished story

We were writing a story together
Until friday was a sudden twist
That barged in like a twister from sea.
The pages still remain immaculate
From where we dropped the pen
And they still smell fresh.
I'm not sure if I could continue
It's an intricate chapter to cover
With letters of stained innocence.
Each time I muster courage I spill ink
Dribbling into a thin stream of whoop,
All the more giving repeated nightmares.
Even if I happen to finish one day
I'm not sure again if I'd find any listeners
They say diversion is a detestable plot.
Perhaps I would just stop here
And move on for better or for worse.