Saturday, April 5, 2014


The truth is this
I may miss lips
And the feel of them
Against the bare skin
Of my neck...

I miss fingers 
Wound between my own

I miss kissing
The palm of his hands
And the security 
In always having 
A hand to hold
On crowded streets
Or sitting on the train

What I wouldn't give
For the security
And warmth in 
The feel of fingers
Laced with mine
And a thumb tracing 
Patterns along my wrist

It would take so little
To undo me
To catch my heart up
Just your beautiful hands
Touching mine

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