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.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741