What are your hands like?

cold, trembling fingers

trailing down my back.....

the anticipation of your thumb

caressing my hip, softly, unassuming;

or, your index finger

brushing the hair out of my eyes;

or, the thirsty way your *******

reaches, earns it's indecency,

within me;

or the way your pinky

grazes my lips, tenderly.

They are rough palms,

pressing against my navel,

holding my knees steady,

they are

nails cut short,

and knuckles callused,

sheer effort

and strength,

a warm embrace,

a subtle claim.