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Somewhere along the line, I became
obsessed
with his hands.
Probably that time, yes
when he told me,
hush now, quiet...
that he didn't like to touch

and yet, he reached for my hand
that time
his hands in my hair,
that time
Hands, his hands soft on my
cheeks, ears, lips, oh...
please...

And his voice becomes small,
worshipful, as he
praises and I
blush and hide my face with my
own hands,
face hot, mind fuzzy and I just want to
kiss him and he, god, he
hides behind those hands
so I kiss them instead, gentle

kiss on the knuckle, palm, fingertip,
little kisses on those
hands, god, and
somewhere along the line I became
enamored of
this boy.