Her hands were the closest
Thing I have ever felt
To a deity, a higher power
Or
Just
A rotten good time.
There must be
A cure for this; harnessing power
From a liberated women,
I watch her live through
Smoke screens, admire how
She avoids commitment through
Nimble feet, boca de piñón
She gives me the worst dreams.
I am sure through her palms I would be
Absolved of all sins, forgiven for future
Transgressions…
I would tear myself apart
To figure her out, to be given
The chance to see her in the morning
Stripped down, covered inch by inch
In the sun’s rays like
A slow eruption, a fiery blessing
Reticently learning that
All things worth having come
Attached to a lesson.

3AM Thoughts // AKA “Looking for Reasoning to Obsession.”