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I run my fingers everywhere, Well, almost everywhere. They dance along your back in reassurance, Seek shelter in the comfort of your own, Press matter to matter to confirm your existence, Wring the day’s dripping tension from your back, And shoulders, and feet. In the mornings they profusely itch, Until they get the chance to text you good morning, In the afternoons they gnawingly ache, Until they’re knocking at your door. But mostly, in the evenings they joyously sing, Home once again wrapped up in yours. I run my fingers everywhere, Well, Mostly everywhere. But mostly, they strain to breaking Reaching out to you.
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Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 2:13 AM UTC
Fingers II
I run my fingers everywhere, Well, almost everywhere. They dance along your back in reassurance, Seek shelter in the comfort of your own, Press matter to matter to confirm your existence, Wring the day’s dripping tension from your back, And shoulders, and feet. In the mornings they profusely itch, Until they get the chance to text you good morning, In the afternoons they gnawingly ache, Until they’re knocking at your door. But mostly, in the evenings they joyously sing, Home once again wrapped up in yours. I run my fingers everywhere, Well, Mostly everywhere. But mostly, they strain to breaking Reaching out to you.
Follow up to my previous work, the other side of the coin, the other hand intertwine.
RhythmBrewer
Written by
29/Cisgender Male/KC, MO
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 2:13 AM UTC
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