I realize how wrong
I was to have depicted
you as being unable to remove the pain
of a bad love,
but you did. Love,
for you, was never insanity plain
and simple as scripted
for some sad love song.
You wrote your own song
with long fingers in my hair,
removing the pain,
the memory, as I recall,
of fingers that never knew
how to touch at all.
6 thoughts on "Fingers"
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“You wrote your own song
with long fingers in my hair”
What sweet melodies they must have been.
I’m glad you heard the melodies… Thanks…
Layer upon layer of sweetness here-not sappy.
Sweet is most always acceptable, but sappy, as you know, destroys a poem.
“You wrote your own song” – how beautiful!
Thanks, Sylvia, I value your reply.