Three fingers on my right wrist, you listen
to the rhythm of my blood river, its constant
flow no one else hears. If you placed your
fingertips to my forehead, would you feel
my shame? Would your palm over my heart
read my longing? Could your hand on my
left hip, fingers pressing deeply into knotted
loins, knead open their gate?
You reach behind the smooth surface
of not caring, the falseness of bravado,
unmask me with your silence.
Bonnie, I love this one. Wow.
Thank you – Felt good to put words on a page(!)
So much in so few lines! Thanks for that. I especially like the ending, he, he!
Yes, this ending is better than what I had yesterday! Thank you!