They are small, but his fingers are long, delicate
Many times I’ve held them, their grasp never long enough
I long for their warmth, ache for their company
His hands are my drug, shivers unhinge my continence
Brown eyes tell his story and I listen amicably
My breasts rise and breath escapes me
I pull on his shirt, he grants me curved lips
The moment is maddening, my toes curling under
Grasping at palms, pawing for consideration
How did I come? to this point
Rushing blood from my heart carries me to his mercy
I sit and I stare and I wonder
Life in his arms, those hands brushing my rose-colored cheeks
There he is, beside me, my eyes finally close
Bury my head in his chest, and I begin to feel true
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