The Hands Poem by Artan Gjyzel Hasani

it's been so long that we don't kiss each other
there are no more caressing...
no more arguing...
no cuddling...
we don't make love and we are not lovers anymore
my nicotine doesn't scent your wild hair
and yet the black doesn't look so dark
when by the end of the day we've agreed
that on the leafless tree the fall doesn't fit
and being apart means to see each other rarely

but there is a moment when we are together
my hands surrender on yours
gambolling...
rubbing
invoking...
the roots start entangling deep down
clashing
they want to burst outside
they want to be forgotten by remembering...

as the eyes languish
and the hands start confessing
silently I recommense to believe
the blossom of leaves on the skin
the creation of brooks from the dew
the miraculous art of touching...