You play the songs

say the write words

get me inside out

understand my coffee stops

late night alcoholic binges

cigarette traps

eternal fights

then you throw me on the bed

and all is forgotten.

You know all the thoughts

before I speak

yet still there is always more

to want and need

as one kiss remains


climbing up that hill

every day

to get to this


of magical hands

all over the flesh.

I never listen.

I chase my own demons

and entrap them

with my wit

as even they 

confuse my day and night

my night with flight

my pain with joy

as words build invisible

love affairs

so do love affairs

build sweet heartache

to continue the words

that save us.


4 thoughts on “Magic Hands

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