Papercuts and inkblots,
her hands betrayed her profession.
"I deal in words on paper"
She danced the dance of silent grace
and secrets of an unmined heart.

She would not tell them of her
other media.
Of fingertips on shoulders,
palms to flesh,
and lips to ears.
Words spilled on pages,
traced in sweat,
whispered in shadow,
tempting
drawing them in.
But her sheets remained clean,
unmarred by foreign ink.
Until he...

Until he...

He
opened all the books,
tore open her ribs,
cleared the dust
and breathed new life
in fire she had not imagined.
Burned the leaves of doubt
in flames of empassioned new language.

This is it!
Throw back the covers
and dive in!
Bury your nose in folds,
creases marking favorite spots,
increasing volumes in
vowel sounds of
oh... ooo... ahh...
and I...
I love... ooo...

I love how you read me.

01/03/2006

Author's Note: "Book lovers never go to bed alone." ~unknown

Posted on 01/03/2006
Copyright © 2025 Meredith C Hartwell