Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Your Pocket

This doesn't seem fair really.
Why are you so beautiful?
How many times have you stretched your hand out to me
and how many more, after I have closed my eyes?
You and me, may be on alternate planes
but we are flowing through the veins
of the same celestial being.
I don't know how, but I can taste you.
I find the crease in your hand and nestle in,
fold over the tiny tab of skin
thinking I am clever,
that I can disappear into your palm.
Maybe wait there, patiently
for you to put your hand in your pocket
and take me home.

No comments: