24 January 2013

too-much-tenderness


you can’t help but wonder
at the way he kisses
– too tender, as if he isn’t
certain he’s allowed,
let alone desired –

you catch your breath, fight
for air; the night weighs heavy
– his kisses are almost
as light as the touch of his
fingers (raindrops, sliding) –

what a time to remember
‘the prophet’
– the pain
of too much
tenderness –

too-much-tenderness his instrument,
too tender, his music
– he plays it
for you best:

you let him.

No comments:

Post a Comment