My World

Anyone who’s seen me in my bean bag,
with a candle lit in a candle holder next to me,
with a tea cup in one hand and a hardcover on the other,
oblivious to my surroundings,
would know that I do not belong here, in reality.

I belong
in a world,
where magic can be found in the corridors,
where I can steal a kiss from my unrequited love,
where I will receive Mr. Darcy’s letter,
where I can bring Potato Peel Pie to a book club,
where I can look at the White House lit on Pride day through the First Lady’s eyes.

I belong,
to the Stationery Shop where I found love,
to Mhairi’s world of flawed yet courageous women,
to the Wishing Chair that took me everywhere,
to the verses of Jacqueline that left me breathless,
to the poem by Elizabeth that I read countless times.

I belong,
to the words crammed in between
the covers of a book,
far away from reality.

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