Why aren’t they?

They ask me why I read?
Faces turned into a bubble of confusion.

I would tell them,
that for a moment,
I am elsewhere, somewhere.
Anywhere.
But here.

I am an extra
to the story,
the author always
made room for.

I would tell them,
that I go on a journey,
of heartache, love,
betrayal, secrets, lies
and forgiveness.

I would tell them,
because without
books, I would be lost.

Instead.

When they ask me why I read?

I smile,
and simply wonder,
why aren’t they?

© Nikkita Robert

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