Waking up

He watched her innocent face
Lovingly under the warm glow
Of the bed side lamp as she
Slept peacefully like a child
And a small smile formed on
His lips as she tried to brush
Away a hair strand in sleep
That kept disturbing her happy
Dreams of rainbows and love
He traced his fingers on her
Face lightly to not awake her
Feeling the smoothness of her
Skin against his rough hands
He knew every freckle to every
Curve her face delicately held
He hummed to himself as he
Continued to explore her skin
The fingers traveled to the neck
He could feel her life beating so
Softly and in a perfect rhythm
Like it was dancing to a tune
He stopped to look up at her as
She stirred under his big hands
Playfully, knowing he was waking
Her up like he did every morning
Reminding her of real happiness

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Twisted Lines

As I look down at my hands
I see twisted lines messed up
Telling tales of the past and
Hiding the future within them
I wonder what meaning they
Seem to be conveying to me
They take twists and turns like
A rocky road of life I have led
I trace my fingers gingerly on
One of hands and even feel a
Few bumps that only can be
Found if looked upon carefully
To an onlooker they are deceitful
Pretty at their best as abstract
But if somebody ever sat down
To read the stories hidden in lines
I wonder if they will cringe in pain
Or wince with pity at the horror
I’m startled to hear my own chuckle
The idea of anyone stopping by for
someone’s story feels oddly wrong