weaker hands

weaker hands than mine will grip you
and you will tingle at the newness
the awkwardness or the ease with which
the hands will touch yours, your back, your face
they will excite, as you imagine where else they can be
they will grasp at your arms as you’re pulled into a kiss
and you’ll twist towards and away as they touch your thighs
fleeting thoughts of how long it’s been since you were kissed like this
touched like this
and you’ll throw them to the side because they were mine
they were mine hands then
you’ll push that out of your mind at first quickly
and then never have to think of it again

stronger hands than mine will lift you
and you will recoil at the pain
but just at first, until you’re suddenly deep in that cave
surprised at the ease with which you lose what you were
all for what seems to be a path of comfort, of ease
and you won’t be anyone i’ve ever known anymore
you and i, we’ll be lost in the crevices
between the new love, the new lust
gone from the surface, from clouding your thoughts with the past
until my face is gone, my name in a grave
a grave that’s now home to me and to all i see

all i see

smaller hands than mine will grip yours
and you will warm at the strength of them
of her tiny fingers holding onto yours and to mine
her tiny mouth opening, closing, our child
she wriggles, and she cries
but don’t fear
from this grave you can’t hear her, love
and i can’t hear anything else

the world that is out there, i know you need it
but i’m trapped by what should be, and lost in what was


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