Pages

Comfort doesn’t come easy to me.

Words seem like just words,

Until you actually read the words

And become enthralled with the world,

Want to be part of that world.

The pages are my comfort.

Some might find that weird,

Others might understand where I’m coming from,

But no one views them the same,

And that comforts me.

Reading is like second nature,

It keeps me up at night,

When the rest of the world is asleep,

Waiting to start the rest of their day,

Anticipating their agenda.

My agenda is simple, a new book.

Turning page after page,

Never wanting the story to end,

The comfort to end,

But it does.

Then, I start again.

Book after book,

Page after page,

Book boyfriend after book boyfriend,

And world after world.

My comfort may end.

Every morning,

Every afternoon,

Even night,

But it will return each day, only in different pages.