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A Kiss
by   Lindsey

Only my hand remembers.
My fingers could tell a thousand tales
    of how you loved me.
But only my hand-
Nothing else.
Not my arms,
Nor my legs,
Nor my toes, face,
    Lips.
Nor my sweet, innocent lips.
For they never met yours.
In all the time we had,
They never felt your soft touch.
And now we no longer have that chance
My whole body is aching
    from envy of my hands...
They got to touch you 
    for one lasting moment.
And now you're gone,
The rest of me will never know
    how it feels to be loved by you.
        
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Poem ID: 21863   Poem Posted: 7/29/2001
Viewed: 55864  Voted On: 1401  E-mailed: 261  Commented On: 14
 
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Copyright , 8-9-99, Lindsey Marie Grimes  all rights reserved by the author.
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