His Hands

Where do I even begin 
To fathom the intricacies of his hands?

These same hands that I’ve studied,
So intensely, 
So covertly,
Under a cloak of girlish curiosity,
And now, I know them better than my own?

Those fingertips, 
That could trace for hours 
And still, have the strength to trace…me?

Those humble hands,
That don’t even recognize their ability to draw me in, 
With their strength and their depth. 

The oddity of just how poetically justified I feel staring at those nails.
How sensually each ligament connects to the next…step is to hold em’
Find any excuse to taste em’

Those hands,
His hands, 
Fat chance I’ll ever forget those hands.

Lord have mercy, those hands!

Excuse me, while I take in those,
Perfectly irresistible,
Infinitely capable,
Down-right sensual, 

- Amandella C. Joseph

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