My heaven
is knowing you exist,
And that you once loved me.
My hell
is all that followed.

As a child
my hiding places were simple-
a closet, under a bed
easily found, never lost.
Now my hiding places
are far more complicated.
I can hide in my books....
I find safety in my books -
so many books that bring me joy.
But no longer do they bring
me solace.
I hide in my office
at home and work.
with doors shut no one looks in,
content to allow me to hide
behind the click, click - click of keyboard strokes.
I hide behind my mask,
carefully made up,
painted on smile,
no one peeks behind
- I can hide my life away....
And often I find myself lost.

We are all freed,  
if but only for an hour,
when we choose to read.

Were books a flower,
knowledge would be the seed.
Infinite power.