It surprises me, how much your hand
looks like mine. I'm so used to the fingers
entertwined with my own being stronger,
steel and just as ready to break as do anything.

You've got a sandpaper tongue, like a cat.
I purr, am restless beneath your touch,
all stiffly arching spine, head so far back
it could break my neck, but I'd die happy.

Girl, I want to love me, bless my face
every time I see it, sullenly returning my stare.
But, if there's no passion lost between
me, myself and I, then I can settle for adoring you.

08/13/2005

Author's Note: My right hand girl. Or maybe it should be left.

Posted on 08/14/2005
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