i cannot explain why your mothlike
fingers kept me up all night,
for your touch
but oh-so afraid to move
that you would stop moving your
hands over my body,
stop letting your fingertips
memorize my frame
and validate the melding
of our skin.
is this? not
but the longing
to have your arms hold me close
all night long
i am not made for these things.
my mind will not slow or bend to
my longings and you cannot stay awake
but oh, just
i desire to let you grip me
fiercely to you for the days
we may number together,
there is something here,
even if we have no name for it.
*B.A. senior thesis poem. a large bulk of my senior thesis was pulled from 2005/2006. which makes sense, as i graduated 2007...