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His Hands

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His hands
Tender and teasing
Strumming along my nape
Playing and pleasing

His hands
Tight and strong
Holding mine all the time
Knowing nothing can go wrong

His hands
Urgent and exploring
Finding every part of my body
Making my spine want to sing

His hands
Play and swirl
Along the length of my black mane
In response, my toes curl

His hands
Protective and kind
Always by my side
Where ever I go, them I find

His hands
Possessive and wild
Pulling me towards him
Not once letting me slide

His hands
Fearful and insecure
Grasping my wrist too tight
Too painful to endure

His hands
Strolling around my neck
Drowning me in a love abyss
Pausing now and then to check

His hands
One by one close my eye
They're still shrouded in doubt
Cradling a smile as I die


  1. Well, 'his hands' have gone from loving to lusting to murdering :)
    Nice one!

  2. What a terrifying, unexpected end! Nicely done!

  3. It started out so sweet but I had an inkling that it would not end well because of the image. A beautiful poem still. True and sad but a good one.The poem is flowing so well.

    1. The idea was to have a gist of the ending in the beginning!

      Thanks Indy.

  4. This is fantastic. I love how you play with fluctuating yet intense sensations here.

  5. Fantastic. That picture is a bit freaky but so relevant to your post. From a happy note to a sad one, well done Soumya.


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