my longing kisses with tongue,
hands gentle on the line of my jaw,
fingers tangled in dyed-black hair
but i wish these hands
were yours instead,
and am still trying to
figure out if that makes
me selfish or simply human
i imagine that your hands
would be gentle with
the parts of me that are
still rough around
the edges
for you, i’d allow myself
to be handled with care,
maybe even with love,
and wouldn’t that be nice?
we could learn to better
love ourselves through
loving one another
and i do think that would
be nice, actually, to wake up
to you and make coffee just
the way you like it, because that
was something you’d
trust me with
and you, just on your own
make my heart sing
like it never has before
or, whatever
what do i know,
i’m not a poet,
i’m just in love
-
Author:
Boaz Priestly (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 14th, 2022 01:05
- Category: Love
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: James Michael
Offline)
Comments2
Beautifully written with your extraordinary style. The fourth stanza really strikes a cord. ‘even with love’ from a yearning heart. A soothing reminder of what really matters.
A few pints with my love at the pub, humor me.
Take care, and be well!
Things to ponder, I suppose. The kind of love I am willing to seek out and accept. I like the last stanza quite a lot, myself.
Always good to hear from you, my friend!
i’m just in love, got it. You are a poet, never forget it.
Burp!
Hahaha! And if you are in love, then you are surely slightly insane!
Really nice job!
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