I’ve got acres of skin,
and a heart that aches to think of
yours - a quickening pulse when I feel your lips and mine.

I’ve got hands
that trace the lines on yours.
The palm: a life line, fate line, head line. Double entente.

The heart line that aligns
with my line as you press it against the wall.
Your fingers entwined with mine and the other around my throat.

Or is it my brain?
Your blood runs from your heart through
the places we touch and courses through my veins.

I have fingers that dance in the dark. You know they could play a
symphony, but tonight you let me play you and your
fingers tingle with applause.