The Book of Love

Your pages are yellowed

And the words are smudged

Some places the ink bleeds

Your spine is cracked

And the corners are roughed

Someone has underlined all over you

You have creases and wrinkles

And the binding is looser

Someone has loved you dearly

Your text and texture

Are no longer bound to your body

Someone has caressed them from you

Someone is now tattooed with your story

Another figure interwoven in between your covers

You, in being effaced, are incarnated in His.

The End

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