IN THE DARK - PART XVII
They curve from the crevice of my neck
All the way down to the small of my back
Where everything is sweet and love
And the breeze blows a shiver through my spine.
They grasp firmly on as the storm lands,
Never unsure of their purpose,
Never stranded in the tempest.
They do not waiver, they do not stray.
They wander and get lost, somehow always the right way.
No one knows me like they do,
Every single little part of me I never even knew I had.
They speak to me.
A secret language no one but me understands,
A secret conversation for just me and your hands.