These hands

These hands

these hands – adorned with silver, gold and opal – twitch with a need for touch

they tingle for intimacy

my fingertips hold yours; will you be around for long enough for me to learn their print?

the lick of varnish applied before rousing Friday nights wears off by Monday morning; telling of my transgressions

the creases on my palms seem to multiply with lovers had and lovers lost

but I can see the tales of help; they run along my fingerprints…and the untold story stemming from hope…

these hands:

they still reach out

3 Comments Add yours

  1. ecorbin1 says:

    beautiful words. visual and evocative


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