To the tips of my fingertips
Hoping to find the tips of yours.
When I feel that urge,
The desire that burns in me to love,
Or if I feel like I can not breathe
For I have forgotten to tend to my heart,
I find myself holding my hand.
Stepping in as the lover I will have one day.
I seem to keep bringing attention
To the very things we use carelessly
Stumble with throughout our days.
Using them to dig through our belongings
To find that last thing that we need
Before we run out the door
Shoveling them through food
As we nourish our bodies.
Countless shakes of hands that we tend to forget the name’s they belong to
To then using them to pleasure ourselves
As well as our lovers
Placing them after below our heads
To let ourselves rest to dream.
When I find myself loving someone
Who’s hands feel connected to their heart strings,
They grab as if it might be their last breath,
Caress as if I’m a delicate treasure
Again and again, bringing chills to my spine.
I should tell you, sir.
Your hands love as if your fingertips are your heart strings
Leaving me breathlessly grateful
To have been held so preciously by you.
Since we never know when or if our paths will cross again
I shall say, “Ciao for now”
And hope, for now isn’t so long.
Yet if not… I will never forget the goosebumps I had with you.