Infidelity
Reading many books
is like having many lovers.
One feeds your excitement,
another, your tenderness
One digs within the throws of your heart
and tugs out a thorn.
Each opening
promises an enlightenment,
each touch
implies the perfect ending
As reality crawls, lynx-like to the corner
and curls up to rest.
You drink every word
like a kiss, like a tonic,
timid at first, unfolding
as they melt,
sweeter than molasses
spilling over the spine