Sacrament

Rating: 4.8

I pore over the pages
Slowly - very slowly -
Savoring the taste of the words in my mouth.

I do this privately,

Nurturing this secret relationship religiously.

I can hold only the words,
Masterful, pure art,
Stripping life, love, lust, and my soul bare.

I want every syllable,
Perfectly placed,
Filling me until I must spill over or die.

I feel in every cell the phrases,
Carefully chosen, measured,
Resonating in my being like a cello.

I can not touch the man,
Elusive, out of time and place,
Holding my heart and breath in his hands.

So I kiss the sacred words,
Slowly, deeply, incalzando,
Taking them inside the space I long for him to fill.

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