Something Beautiful
Smooth and warm,
littered with scars from fireworks and bumble bees
and all kinds of idiotic antics.
Jagged fingernails are a dead end
across the large, rolling expanse
of your hands.
Gentle fingertips stroke across the strings
as calming words flow from your
loving lips.
You pause
and place your guitar on the table where you sit,
wrapping your arms around me
so we’re finally the same height.
Foreheads rest together
and I smile.
Our skin contrasts
but our eyes drift close
as he laughs
and I relax.
Hands drift back to my waist
and rise to the ribs
protecting my frantic heart.
My hands,
glittered with rings and pale in comparison,
rise from shoulders to hair
as my thumbs paint a pattern
on his temples
and we remain.