A very short and very graphic piece of poetry.
A different reality.
With her head in his lap, she read into a book Or that’s what he thought, whenever he looked But why would she read into another universe, When the face she read into, was perfection to hers? No wizard, nor beast, nor butterfly No prince, nor dragon, nor maiden’s cry Could create a fantasy…
“One of the risks of being quiet is that other people can fill your silence with their own interpretation: You’re bored. You’re depressed. You’re shy. You’re stuck up. You’re judgmental.When others can’t read us, they write their own story- not always one we choose or that’s true to who we are.”
-Sophia Dembling’s The Introvert’s Way