soft hands
lovingly caressing
blank pages
they yearn to fill
wound by forgotten dreams
these hands
never striking
never hitting
i can see the inspiration
beneath ocean-blue nails
i can see the secrets
within those silken hands
love
not
sadness
this skin is made of
enough
enough
this skin is made of
sadness
not
love
within those silken hands
i can see the secrets
beneath ocean-blue nails
i can see the inspiration
never hitting
never striking
these hands
wound by forgotten dreams
they yearn to fill
blank pages
lovingly caressing
soft hands
Poetry
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The words, “with those silken hands, i can see the secrets” are beautiful and go very well with the lovely poem as a whole, thanks for sharing.