Portrait

I am fingers and hands
through twilight’s heat,
Gentle prostrations
before open curves as
they fade with the hour.

Night’s desire weighs on
open mouth, lips that
touch words while they
struggle to form,
Breathless praise

breaking the still of air,
Delicate touch for
weary ears and dreams,
Pulled tight by soft,
encroaching limbs.

I am fingers and hands
through twilight’s heat,
Gentle prostrations
before open curves as
they fade with the hour.

image

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