The Book of Her Body

I lift you up, delicately like a bouquet of flames in pink patient fever, romantically, I rove your surface with fingertips that tingle, the texture of your treated cover tempts an impatient lover, I read your Title, Her World, Her War subtitle, Surviving Sorrow & Love, your emblem, embossed in opal a quill spun across a heart spelling your soul, I spread you open with both hands my grip holding the breadth of your body a scent of sensuous ink unfurles into my inquisitive senses raising you into my fascinated face smelling the cleavage of your binding sailing my lips down the center of your special secret having your silky ribbons root around my fingers, breathing, in warm curiosity on your exotic fibers, Loving me as I hold you in wonder, as I finger your pages with fawning pursuit of pleasure, speedily you whisper my name with no refrain as my moist voice recites your poetry of paradise and pressure points, I venture deeper into your voluptuous volume feeling sensations of starlight I do consume, in your tome of thick passion I find a home, I like to read you in the suspense of night searching your love lines, tasting your grape vines, touching your emotions, embracing your sweet seductions, you get into my nerves like electric sugar illuminated by your poems of ardor and prose of candor, intrigued by the penmanship of a Princess, curvaceous and calculating, I turn to the Introduction, to see a photo of the great Authoress a face pretty in courage, a smile of beautiful strategy your body of work legendary, I kiss you because I must - J.A.B.