I kiss the faces of my books

the feeling of reading and what it means, what exploration awaits, the investigator and the investigation, who is seeing who?

I kiss the faces of my books

After their pages have been read,

And I touch their noble spines

Or their cheeks of leafy skin.

Inside their bodies are words-

The forge of reality is lit-

Like bloody riddles they dry

As their universe begins with,“Yes.”

On couch, on bed or bench,

I sift through cryptic meanings,

And with lantern investigate

Their curves of divine reasoning.

I return from their embrace

To rest alone in my bed,

Where dreams of death consume me,

Coiling words around my neck.

We are linked by spectating,

We are voyeurs of a deep abyss.

My soul sparkles in their memory

And my eyes are blessed with each kiss.

Reviews

[Coffeeprincess]

very pretty.. how do one come up with such beautiful words?