Dear Reader
It’s true that when
you’re near I want
to kiss your cheek,
stroke my thumb
across your lips,
brush away
the pretense
of a crumb;
it’s true I want to
invite you to paradise.
Or coffee and chocolates.
Or beneath the covers
of my bed. Yes,
I’m more tease
than temptress.
Truth is,
I’m simply lovesick
on possibility
alone, lovesick
for the intimate,
the tender, this sense
of you and me.
Think of us—
a cozy room,
an amber bowl
of light, a sprinkle
of sugar across
the clear night sky.
Would that not be
safe and true as
the stars? Isn’t that
what we long for?
What I want for us
is this—a warm and quiet
place, and time enough.
Words. Breath. Turn
after turn of page. Rhythm
rising in our blood,
insistent as the moon,
round as our hopeful mouths.
by Kory Wells, from Sugar Fix
Instagram: @tnpoet
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Twitter: @korywells
Editor’s Note: Personification speaks throughout this poem, imbuing the imagery with the romance every reader feels for a good book.
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