Getting Out Of The Way

I was trapped in an unusual place, with unusual bedfellows,
a land of untrustworthy ghosts and unreliable storytellers,
wondering if you would see me,
or if you were still insistent on being introspective.

You took notes as your glasses wandered down the bridge of your nose,
your girlish smile,
the one that you’d been wearing for decades,
dancing across your face as my name pushed its way onto your phone screen.

Is it irresistible yet, my darling?
Am I a symptom, or the cause of this madness?
I hate it here,
and I hunger for home,
but I don’t know if you are ready to rescue me yet.

You answer the call,
stifling a laugh at my smart mouth,
and I ask, in my very best baby voice,
when will my loving Daddy rescue her Princess from this war zone?

You see, it’s been half an hour of holding myself to account,
trying the real world out,
and I’ve never been more fond of our fantasy.

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