proxy

I dream of your hands
tangled like need
in my hair
as I breathe you in.

I dream of your hands
finding every curve and line
touching them
moulding them to your palms
like a sculptor.

I dream of your hands
covering every inch of my skin
a blistering caress
that ignites my own fire.

I dream of your hands
making my body sing
with a touch, a grasp
that tells me I am yours
my song for your ears only.

I dream of your hands
and my own hands
become your proxy.

© Emmaleela