Light fingers
brush across a shoulder,
standing hairs on end.
A gentle caress
sends shivers
skittering down the spine.
A cool touch
sets the mind
racing.
But this touch,
so hollow,
so empty,
a vacant echo
of affection,
untrue, deceptive.
Counterfeits of love,
icy fingers trace
veins of sorrow.
An insincere embrace
stirs the mind,
inspiring false hope.
My own hand,
my own arm,
curled around me.
A vain attempt
to bring your love
to where I lie.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 10:06 AM UTC
Light fingers
brush across a shoulder,
standing hairs on end.
A gentle caress
sends shivers
skittering down the spine.
A cool touch
sets the mind
racing.
But this touch,
so hollow,
so empty,
a vacant echo
of affection,
untrue, deceptive.
Counterfeits of love,
icy fingers trace
veins of sorrow.
An insincere embrace
stirs the mind,
inspiring false hope.
My own hand,
my own arm,
curled around me.
A vain attempt
to bring your love
to where I lie.
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