"These
Hands"
She said, "these are lover's hands.
These hands are beautiful hands.
So smooth so soft so … discreet."
She pressed them against her cheek,
"These hands, warm, strong, delicate,
ravenous in their caress."
She brought them to touch her lips.
"These hands are," and brushed a kiss
"these hands are neither corrupt,
by men, nor callous, nor rough
"these are poet's hands." She said.
She touched them to her body
"These hands," she said in hunger,
"are the hands of a lover."
These hands
take a look at These hands
these roguish hands
these currish hands
These hands that are scarred and reputed
These hands
These hands that are callused and broken
These hands
These hands
have been hardened with hire
arthritic and cracked
deformed and defiled
These hands
have been tempered from time
These hands
that have conquered your fears
conquered your desires
conquered by love
These hands
that have felled trees for your bed
and have splintered rock for your sleep
These hands
that have built for you a cathedral
and have been often bled in defeat
These hands
take a look at These hands
These hands that have held you in desire
These hands that have touched your sanctuary
fevered damning and alive
These hands that cupped water to your lips
cupped sweat from your breast
and the child in your arms
These hands numb from pain
numb from your dismiss
thick and barbaric
These hands have brushed your tears
have touched your whisper and
ignited the warm of your belly
These hands
that have felt the sting of your cheek
These hands
forsaken renounced
have held you in their fervor
gentle enduring
These hands
These hands
take a look at These hands
These hands foundry chiseled
whose joints refrain
in the burn of molten
the crush of flesh
These hands with severed tips
shattered knuckles
the Braille of tissue and
tell-tale sutures
These hands
these reformed rake's
These hands
take a look at These hands
these are the hands
of a man
who loves you
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