These hands are not yours…
the way they caress
how they hold me
how they brush my tears away
This malaise grasp
grazes my core
shunning my depths
blinding my light
I miss your presence
the sturdy hands
against my crumbling soul
holding and reassembling my pieces
These hands are not yours…
who bears me is my own
how softly did I know
Who kisses me? it’s your soul
The art of musical poetry 