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…