My Grandma

My grandma's sandy skin like chopped pecans delight me stands for comfort and bitter sorties the dysfunction and re-joining the colossal, quasi-expressionistic soul hidden behind despair a husband who tried to bury you alive we crossed disquieting silences and productive scowls, you would get my temper teetering on the blink of a slap you would assure me with a pair of eyes and I, gasping with delight would ask you for a hug yet passion is so much stauncher when doesn't stride out from the chest when it keeps quiet and invest the beauty of a kiss embroidered in your throat so I keep on kissing you and you never get enough and I shall never pass on feeling your son, through your daughter's act a replica of a miracle