I swear she’s just a child, yet she holds my head in her hands.
Grasps me like a haphazard rock atop a traffic cone.
And like a bandy Goliath
She tests my lips like cold waters on toes.
Trying for the first time the likes of my hulking frame.
And she purses her lips and tastes what’s been done.
I can only be still for her, searching her
If she needs me, I’m here for her
For the decision of a mistake or a realisation.
Yet how can she be a child; she holds my head in her hands.