untitled
I take your calloused hand,
Work worn from time on a shovel,
Ropes slipping through your palms.
Grit against my lips
As I press my mouth to your bruised knuckles,
Used again to defend my honor.
I beg you once more
To be careful
Protect your own good body,
Save your own fragile soul.
4 thoughts on "untitled"
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It feels to be a tender moment of honoring a protector amid a wider and meaningful awareness of life both large and small. It is hinged around a kiss as the return of love in a brief moment. There is so much complexity in that one simple gesture in your poem. So well done! Thank you.
truly lovely:
Grit against my lips
As I press my mouth to your bruised knuckles,
Used again to defend my honor.
I love this, especially the last two lines.
Your words should be well taken by the intended one.