It's those hands
Those fucking beautiful hands
I love those hands
I think they love mine just as much.
It's those hands
Playing keys of white
And keys of black one note above
Ending with a strum from a violin named Val.
It's those hands
The gorgeous rough hands
Belonging to my love
Weaving life as I've weaved words
It's just those god forsaken hands,
It's just those lovely hands,
It's just those dear hands,
It's just those fucking hands-
Wrapping my form as if it's nothing more than a marionette on strings.
Hesitating to touch those instruments in fear of upsetting me.
Opening my body to feel what my nerves haven't when they flutter over my skin.
Let these hands from my love be
The last thing I feel-
Based on a short poetic idea I wrote to an old boyfriend that was centered around his abnormally large hands.
YOU ARE READING
Works of Mizu-
PoetryA series of poems in which I write about certain objects, places, people and situations- Works of Mizu is my poetry stories, with each story having different characters, settings, times etc. Please enjoy what I have written- P.S. Read the poems slow...
