The Morning After

I remembered your hands this morning,
The way you let your fingers run down my neck,
Self-conscious of their effect on me.
They would make their way down my spine,
My back curling to them, awakened.
Meld my flesh to your fingerprints.

I remembered the taste of your fingertips,
The dip of your palm, the folding effect
Of your skin - How it would pulsate against mine.
I know them and the roughness off your calloused,
Hard working hands. I loved the grazing of you,
The warmth of your skin.

You let your hands bloom in mine,
Opened up your fingers, spread your palm
To let me take hold of you, to memorize
The swirls and lines of you. I loved the sensation of you,
The aftershock of your devotion.

The sun creaked through the cracks
Of my blinds this morning and I remembered
You and your touch, your hands and
The creases I would lose myself in,
That I traced endlessly.