Hands
Hands wound and mend,
Perform and let loose,
Embrace and drive away.
Your hands draw me close,
Warm the deepest threads of my soul,
And quench my most thrilling desires.
My hands nestle themselves
Into the soft, handsome foliage
That decorates my only sanctuary.
Our hands weave in and out
Of every curve and delicate space
Within each of our eager bodies.
Copyright © Kirsten Dupree | Year Posted 2018
|