Wrinkles.

I knew your face
and its wrinkles
like I knew the lines on my palm;
the line from the corner of your eye
curved up and faded away
towards your temples,
quite like the path that curves
from the edge of my middle finger
to where my wrist meets my palm.
Your nose is the ‘J’
that begins on my index
and traces its way to my thumb;
Your cheeks precisely fill my palm
and my hand covers your forehead
from wrist to longest tip.
Your face fits perfectly
in the cups of my palms
and my thumb tenderly,
lovingly strokes
the curve of your smiling lips
that span wide
from the tip of my ring finger
to its base.
I knew your face
and the lines it held
like I knew the lines on my palm,
and sometimes
when I ached to touch you,
as you slept miles away from reach,
I traced the lines on my hand,
pretending that it was your face.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s