ODE TO THE HANDS THAT LOVE

When I feel that urge,

The desire that burns in me to love,

Or if I feel like I can not breathe

For I have forgotten to tend to my heart,

I find myself holding my hand.

Stepping in as the lover I will have one day.

I seem to keep bringing attention

To the very things we use carelessly

Stumble with throughout our days.

Using them to dig through our belongings

To find that last thing that we need

Before we run out the door

Shoveling them through food

As we nourish our bodies.

Countless shakes of hands that we tend to forget the name’s they belong to

To then using them to pleasure ourselves

As well as our lovers

Placing them after below our heads

To let ourselves rest to dream.

When I find myself loving someone

Who’s hands feel connected to their heart strings,

They grab as if it might be their last breath,

Caress as if I’m a delicate treasure

Again and again, bringing chills to my spine.

I should tell you, sir.

Your hands love as if your fingertips are your heart strings

Leaving me breathlessly grateful

To have been held so preciously by you.

Since we never know when or if our paths will cross again

I shall say, “Ciao for now”

And hope, for now isn’t so long.

Yet if not… I will never forget the goosebumps I had with you.