Recounting death, and its devices, to you
Seemed almost like telling a tale of the past,
So many years ago.
Like books that I have read in schooltime,
I have placed them on sagging bookshelves
And gifted them to trusted friends.
I might not remember every character and page,
Nor any more know why I declared it my favourite
Of favourites that touched my soul inside.
It was, a mirror in which I saw myself,
A voice that bewildered but captured me,
To better understand it and find it.
I loved it, for why I might not ever understand,
But I loved it like I love chocolate and earl grey
Like how it brings a smile to my face.
But I have not lost my life like
How I have not lost myself in book fantasies
And I sit here still before you all.