I Pick you up, caress your fragile pages, 

I get lost in you, 

I climb into your spine.

In other people’s lives, and stories,

But I make them my own. 

I absorb your expression.

Stories unfold on the page, 

But they exist in my mind.

I’m the creator of other worlds. 

But you were my first love,

Friend, companion, 

My way out of the darkness.

A tangible escape.

I’m trapped in this prison of a room,

Afraid to leave.

But I’m transported into another place,

Through you.

And for a few hours I’m free. 

I’m safe. 

I exist in a place with emotion, unafraid. 

I wanted to be somewhere else,

Somewhere happier,

And you took me there through words on your thin crisp pages. 

Stories shape the way I see the world.

I retreat into myself again,

And lose myself, my problems.

My mind entertains someone else’s life.

Real or imagined,

I have empathy, understanding,

Awareness of other existence. 

And I’m healed through your stories.  

My creativity expands, 

You stayed with me, 

Through the growing pains.

Tears falling on the page,

Your words got me through. 

Words have the power to destroy,

And to heal 

I don’t want to watch, 

I want to pick you up, hold you,

Be mesmerized and transformed by you,

You travel with me,

To a better place. 

And now I give back, 

What has been given to me.

Through writing.

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