O la joie d'être pleinement aimé !
ô le désir de
s'ouvrir par le milieu comme un livre !
—Paul
Claudel
Open me in the middle like a book.
No matter what the
page, you’ll find your name.
Run your long fingers down where I once took
A pen and drew a
heart of ink and flame:
The one that burns in me and always writes
In blood of you
whenever it feels love
For all your inarticulate delights—
Which I devour and
never weary of.
It’s all and only lines and pretty phrases.
Part fact, part
fiction; but each word is true.
I like to think it comforts and amazes.
It only lacks one
positive review.
For I’m what nothing on this earth can age:
A book
of love without a final page.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells
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