Relishing when your smirk draws my snarl.
Proving to me, that you are second to none.
Give me your open palm, I will trace the wrinkles running.
Massaging knuckles a’loose.
Popping like logs a’flame,
the liquid spaces between bones and cartilage.
I am cleaning your hand’s battleground
from being strewn with tension’s carnage.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Author: writtencasey
I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer.
With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills.
I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here.
Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.
View all posts by writtencasey
WrittenCasey 