books, words

i had raised her fingers to my lips

the smell of books and ink wafted to my nose

synapses fire

recollections of lazy nights on the couch

her laying on my chest as i read from one of the thousands of books scattered about

lands far away blossoming to life

we took a trip together down dusty lanes and to brilliant new vistas

places where magic exists and the unbelievable is attainable

now i read alone

in silence

the journeys seem emptier somehow

with no one to share them with

the fantasy better with another

these solo trips to other worlds make me long for a partner in this one

someone to sit with me and keep the monsters in my mind at bay

whisper into my ear that it is going to be okay

take me on special trip where the crushing weight of depression is just a myth

where i am more than a shell of a man

i am real, fully developed

instead of this broken figurine

one i can read too, have read to me

these moments where it all crashes down

someone to tell me it isn’t all bad

that it will be alright

see the tracks the tears rain down my face

and wipe them away

some magic is unbelievable

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