Hands Poem by Kewayne Wadley

I hunger for your hands
Substituting what happens between them in living memory.
The intimacy of being that close.
A single hour filled with fragility.
It's natural that they'd become curious. Roaming about until they themselves feel comfortable.
That feeling in the center of your chest that makes you feel that you can do anything.
In A place of this size.
I long to be lost in the grasp of somewhere comfortable