pages filled with splotches of ink,
my hand caresses it
as if it's the body of my lover.

the scent of it enchants me,
makes me close my eyes and inhale
heady and in love.

my eyes drink in the sight
as if it is our last meeting
and will be forever separated,
making tears pool over the thought.

i clutch it within my arms,
like a deranged lover, not ready
to lose what i love.

but it is for the moment i live,
where it clutches my hands tightly
with its grip light and papery,
fills my soul
with the essence of heaven,
and kisses me,
branding my mind with every words
that were spilled
on the pages of it's life.

—bibliophilia