Hands

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My hands work their way
Across her naked body, beautiful
And covered, but I know her secrets,
My fingers pressing deep
Into her welcoming flesh, healing
Her from within and without.

We form a circuit, a union
Of focus, of desire, of will;
I can feel her essence inside of me
And I welcome it, her pain,
Her joy, and sorrow, and hunger,
It calms me to know nothing but her.

I have no honor, no hope,
No purpose other than this moment,
I have only the honesty of her form,
Her bare skin in soft evening light,
And the knowledge that I know her
As no other has, and no other will.

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