my fingers trace
the dog-eared pages of life
over these past few days
they've become soft
I could press them
into my hands
feel the particles breaking away
words
mixing with new ones
the letters
finding their own paths
I could crush them into clay
if I wanted to
shape them into
something else

the last of sentences
handed me
my one way ticket
back to reality

Thank you
they say
Come again

And I will
I will revisit them
thousands of times over
again and again
until their pages
are yellowed and
leaning toward decrepit
until the words have become tired
until its sentences ring out
weary smiles of recognition
when they see my face
feel my palms pressed against them

Oh
It's you again

I will wait until
their "Welcome back."
slowly turns to

"Welcome home."

I will lift my head up
allowing my eyes to scan
the unknowing faces
that surround me

faces that can't see
the stories that fill the air
the ones I breath in
that hand me life
on a silver plate

They don't even know
They don't even know