all about…

for 3WW, words are blush, quiver, tenderness

this isn’t about
the cradle of tenderness
i had with you…
neither the quiver
of your voice
as you called out my name.

this isn’t about
how your words
struck me…
blush me…
melt me…

i know, i’d forgive you
like i always do..
but right now,
i can’t imagine when…

when will i get over
sleeping without you
beside me…

when will i stop
thinking that your
tenderness belongs to me…
just for me…

when will i be able
to refrain myself
to quiver as i remember
the way you touch…
the way you kiss…
the way you whisper
words enough to blush me…

yet, darling,
it’s not about how you
made me feel good inside
it’s about how you break
my heart…

dirty hands

for the prompt of Weekend wordsmith ’s Dirty Hands

my hands are tied…
but that doesn’t bother me much…
i am worried about the dirt
that’s been printed
and has been with me
all my waking life.

city of angels
in one hell of a crowd,
stern look,
harsh words…
making me believe that
what I’ve done
was one such favor…

i know I’m not gonna do it
but the smell of blood,
the voices of fear,
the suffering in their eyes,
has been tattoed on my hands.

must i ask for forgiveness
to all the life that’s
been inside me?
must i seek sanctuary
for all the broken hearts?

how could i ever
wash these hands,
when i am very much aware
of all the little painful
things i have done?