The only objects
I have ever felt
true attachments to,
are my books.
They are so much
more than ink, paper, and leather.
When they are lost,
I lose a memory.
I lose who I was when I read that story.
Stay with me I know that sounds silly.
For example, I lost my copy of Twilight.
A trivial novel, maybe.
But when I lost that book,
I lot the 13 year old girl
who fantasized about her own
vampire romance. Or any romance.
And some might say good riddance
to those foolish fantasies.
But every now and then when
my mere mortal romances are too much,
I'd love to pick up  Twilight,
re-read and imagine my own vampire boyfriend,
sweeping me off my feet.
When I lose my books, I lose that opportunity
to escape.
If only for a little while.