How strange
That my love
Is made of words
Yet not so
For many do love
On the pages of books
I find that
Shakespeare hath writ
Lovers in ink
And stories
Do define the essence
Of love
But still
I allow myself a smile
For the oddness
That I
Should have fallen in love
With living words
Oh yes!
For they are live as the vivacity
Of my heart
My whole
Aches for their little
Presence
I reach
As though through prison bars
To touch love
But alas!
Love is so far and yet only
A heartbeat away
That kiss
Waiting on my trembling lips
Is so passionate
I cannot
Feel a mouth’s tender embrace
Upon mine
Instead
I wrap my heart around
The words
I taste
Every happiness with animated
Eyes
Every letter
Paints a beautiful scene
Of love
Each syllable
Pulls me deeper into
A new world
I undergo
A rush of pleasure and bliss
From heaven
I’m so close
To feeling a strong hand
In my own
Hungrily
I stare at the words
That I love
Only wishing
I might know them as
Reality
It’s unreal
How much I adore
Those words
And even more so
How much those words
Adore me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
smooth poem Rachel keep it up