- Hannah Flowers
i have been told that i have soft hair
"won't you touch it," i prompt
my intention laid bare:
won't you touch me, i mean
so i can imagine you there
fingers lightly combing through
my heart, sending off flares
a thought turned to a spark
my soul, closed for repair.
i have been told that i have soft hands
"won't you feel them," i suggest
provide supply for my demand
won't you feel me, i mean
a gesture too large to ask
your ghost held me in my sleep
and i prayed the dream would last
i can almost remember your shape
like the wick remembers the match.
i have been told that i have soft lips
"won't you kiss them," i wonder
with arms laid heavy on my hips
won't you kiss me, i mean
any and everywhere you wish
and you would hold it all
my love, deeper than a ditch
for i have known you in a past life
but i can't remember which.