I love your body
because it is yours.

I love your face and hair,
your legs, arms, belly, thighs, breasts –
because they are yours.

Would that I could touch –

I would start with the back of your hand.

Hesitant.
Reverent.
Awed.

Turning it over,
I would touch your wrist,
tracing the blue veins upwards.
I would gently explore
just finding each mark,
each scar,
each mole.
Learning the sense of it.
I would with the very tips of my fingers
trace invisible lines –
barely touching,
a sensual hovering,
feeling the hairs bristle and softly move –
coming briefly to rest on the inner crook of your elbow,
and then down again.

Giddily down.
Light-headed.
Tangled.

Your palm.
Little circles with my thumb,
resting my fingers lightly on yours.
Then tracing those invisible lines again –
my index finger,
and each of your five fingers in turn.

Dizzy.

If I could touch!

Advertisements