stranger things exist
than my hands
reaching for your face
as if touching you
might excite some connection inside
and turn your head
to see

what a funny word
for this funny feeling
in my chest
when my eyes rest on you…
it seems I could have found
a more macho word
I could parade around with

with that long distance gaze
warm hands
(and sweet thighs…)
and me,
with my words scattered
all over the floor
trying to sweep up the ones
that might sweep you

love or fear..
these are the only choices
to base our reasoning on
and at this moment…
I’m going with love.


One thought on “Yearning

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