To an Ex-Lover I Couldn’t Love Enough

I swear there is something paranormal
about November mornings
and your hands.

 

I wake up to morbid senses,
my nose burning in the coldness
and eyes peeking through cracked eyelids.

 

I remember you on such mornings
the same way I did the years ago–
by the curls of your frizzy hair
and the light stomp on your toes.

 

The first time we held hands
it was in a room full of people
with busy forward eyes
and stealthy sideway stares.

 

A thousand senses stormed me
that moment
and all I could do was breathe.

 

Today I will tell you,
Your hands are the most intimate places
I have touched of a woman.

I will tell you,
The lines on your palms seemed to me
like our destinies
etched in cryptic poetry.

 

I will tell you,
Your hands have stifled a time that I knew
could never be yours alone,
or mine.

 

I will tell you,
The warmth of your hands
made them feel less like limbs
and more like homes.

 

I will tell you,
Some days are better than others.
And the day we held hands, my dear,
that was the best of us.

 

 


 Image Source: flickr.com



 

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