In the palm of your hand.

kitty the naughty poet


Skip between the fingers
dance on the tips
his hand holds strong enough
for other ladies to dance with me
twirling disasters falling through the cracks
hanging on for dear life
follow up the thumb and dive to the palm
let him hold us tight
flat as ladies frolic between fingertips
nakedness against palms skin


Sprites and Pixies giggle as they twirl around each of his fingers Leaving a tickling and arousing sensation
Each a different color and shade...
Orange and Yellow like the falling leaves of Fall
White and Grey as the Clouds and Snowflakes of Winter
Pink, Red and Yellow matching the blooming flowers of Spring
Their joyful and liberating festivities high above the ground as he holds them most delicately admiring their naked beauty laid bare before him.
Dancing merrily and drunkenly like the Maenads of
Dionysus...they spend their time even as the sun drops low, and the moon rises high illuminating the curves and slopes of their gentle and alluring figures


Pale, stunted
fabricated
like a cold, dead
sculpture
of emotionless, mirage
connections
that's what, glutenous
egotistic, conquering ambitions
yield
when, an individual chooses
to confuse
lust's, self-gratification
inhumanity
with, that sensuality
of commitment-less, romance
see
having many lovers, if all willing
is never a problem
but having them all at once
having them compete
making fools of their trust
that a crime, karma
often repays, with double
the wrath!


Creases in the palm of my hand,
Are supposed to tell me, of my plans,
But, my hand is of smaller size,
Thus, short life could be my prize,
If that is so, then I shall grasp,
Sing loud and proud, with all the rasp,
For all to hear, near and far,
Hoping they remember me, at the bar.


If I hold up my hand
You can use it as your world stage
Show the wolves how you dance
Leave your audience in a trance
And make them know how you only grow so graceful without age
Take a leap of faith
Into the palm
Tell me what you find

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