Poem for a Fondly Remembered Lover

[wickedhart]

His hands always fascinated me,

how they would flutter with excitement
like butterflies circling around my head,
and when I would look at him and smile,
how they would stop in mid-flight
as if they had forgotten
what they were going to say.

His hands were always gentle
and they held me tender.

I remember his fingers, so delicate,
gliding over my still developing
young girl curves; he read my body
as if he were reading Braille.
He gently unfolded me as my secrets
spilled into his opened hands.

We were never meant to be lovers,
we were young and we never looked beyond
the edge of his bed,
he was the North and I, the South
and when our opposite poles collided
we became bigger than ourselves.

He was the bright star that Keats had given to me
after I plunged myself between his lines
and burned myself from the glow of his eyes.

Oh my first lover,
how my lips did tremble upon our first kiss,
as he parted them with his tongue, slow,
and that taste, his taste,
still upon my tongue even now.

It was the sound of Heaven falling down around us
as he whispered my name,
and it was the Earth swallowing us whole,
as he broke through me
as every cell in our bodies burst.
We were so close that we couldn't breathe,

we re-emerged shaken,
reborn,
reshaped,
changed.

We always savoured the moment
right before the end
because we both knew
there would be no end.

[bags123]

For better or worse,...I think we all remember our first time,...and all the emotions that go along with it. Nicely done!