Your hands trace the contours
I smile
You softly let your fingers scroll
on my warm skin
I smell green apples
what is it?
Your perfume or incense?
In the quiet
I can hear your heartbeat
and you can touch mine.
Each scar, each mark,
has a tale to tell!
you gently brush
a stray strand of hair
from my face
tuck it behind my ear
and trace
a gushing stream of cold water
down my neck,
I release my stiff shoulders
my breast bone loosens
the binoculars of my heart
read every line in your palm!
In a small salon
two women
share their stories
without a word
and give each other
the gift of empathy.
“This post is a part of ‘UMeU’ Poetry Blog Hop #UMeUBlogHop organized by Manas Mukul . The Event is sponsored by Soul Craft and You, Me & The Universe.”
