HANDS

In this cool and darkened room

the world outside falls away;

I never see your face

as you come up behind me…

Suddenly you claim my body as yours;

your hands mapping out my entire being,

tracing scars of deeply imbedded wounds,

careful with piercings that bore holes inside my soul.

I flinch at each invasion of your fingers,

deftly putting pressure at vital spots,

easing out the tension from my lower back;

up and down you slide, again and again…

Then you stretch out across my own length,

using every part of you against my resistance;

the bed creaks at both our weights

and I expel a moan or a groan on occasion.

You aim to release long-bottled up emotions

now clogging up my every pore,

as if each stroke can erase every crease on my forehead,

as if every caress can wipe out each disturbing memory.

After the token hour, the deed is done,

I got what I paid for, so I turn to leave

I vow never to return to this place

…until the next moment of need.


- GPL 3/12/2011