Untitled XXV

My hand fits
in his hand print
in places
I never could
fathom his hands had been.

Paintings made of red
and blue-purple markings---
indigo tinted skin
all over your body.
You are a masterpiece with
Pieces left in shambles by your master---


I trace your memory in my mind
trying to put you together
again
but you always seem to fall apart
at the slightest touch
shortest glance---


This moment bothers me now and
was awkward then
you're hiding the mistakes
he made.
I'm paying
and patiently waiting
for you to come around
and lay with me with
our secrets spread
on these black and
red jersey knit sheets tucked under the corners of a
california queen

Forgive me if I pry,
or seem to be
concerned in the least---
just know
there is no harm in this realm
just solace in my arms
and silence in my mind

wish you gasped
from sheer enjoyment
not false pretense
I pray you don't feel him
breaking the skin---
even if for a moment.
I prefer not to enter on these terms
perhaps it's just me.

my hands fit
in his hand prints
in places
id like to be the last one in
places I'd like to fill the space in
hand prints I'd like to erase
and fractures i'd like to mend

My hands hold on
to resentment
not of my own experiences
how selfish of me to wear the pain
for you...

I pray you never find me
heavy handed.