As a young child
I remember lying
in my parents bed,
between them,
wrapped in their blankets
and
engulfed in their snores.

I had just
woken up
from a nightmare,
scared, tired,
and trying to
self-sooth.

I
watched
as my mothers stomach
inflated and deflated
with every
lingering breath.
I tried to pace my own
in the same steady ongoing rhythm,
because only then,
would I not be sick.

Lying there
consumed in the dark
of the night,
worrying about
what the day would bring
and what my dreams would unleash.

If only I had a handful of pills right now
To take me to...
*Wonderland

Touch me the way you touch books - lightly skimming your fingertips over the spine, opening the pages, gently leafing through them, using your fingers pointing to each word, and just memorising the way the parchment feels against your skin.

Hold me the way you do with an old fragile book, or a new book that you're afraid of damaging - gently holding the spine, afraid of opening me too wide and hurting me, taking in it's musky scent, and studying every word, committing it to memory.

But don't end me the way you do with books - putting it down gently, only picking it up to reread occasionally, and leaving it on the shelf to collect dust on it's cover.

Keep me by your side, like a diary, and write in me, telling me your truest feelings, terrified of losing me, for fear that others would uncover your darkest troubles.

Keep me by your side and always read me, read through your past entries, treasure me, and place all your trust in me - I'll never disappear, your memories, happiness, sorrow will always remain with me, and you will never have to worry about forgetting anything. You will always have me by your side.

But when the pages are filled up, don't stop - add in new pages, like you can with any diary. But I doubt I will ever be filled up because I've enough pages to last you a lifetime without any worries of me ending.