Lovers Devoured Page by Page

Your ebullience becomes the gilded leaf
to my aging pages,
a lingering touch along precious edges.
Each golden blade shows your mettle,
turned slowly into the flesh of a heart.
Every sliver, the mete for eyes and ears,
for the pain of your passing precedes your death
and each day you live, I die a year;
weeping Braille joyfully
for a blind man to read
off the tear pitted parchment
while he traces red arcs of wine glass ringlets,
until his fingers become dizzy.
This book is my cup filled to its lip,
every sip, a spill,
every word a taste
of my beloveds
salted kiss.