hands

more than anything
i want to know
what your hands
feel like in mine
eyes closed
roughened skin catches
the edges of mine’s soft
fingers bitten by
years of sharp cords
your craft
my pleasure
to feel the strength
of your bones
corded muscle
lined up against
my own strength
cannot belie
the pulse that would
beat between us

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eyes of men

i sat amongst men
yesterday 
had a glass of cognac 
placed in front on me. 
hair tied back,
ends tucked away from
judgmental eyes.
naturally my shoulders hunched
not wanting to waste 
opportunity 
to feel what real men do
they spoke about an age
i would never have any
tangible opinions on
so i sat, shoulders hunched
and brought the glass
to my inexperienced lips
the first touch against my
tongue should have been
my last. but i held down
the urge to let it spill
from between my lips.
let it soak, son.
let it seep into your veins
let it make you a man 
eyes watered but i held on
to a watery smile
and let the countless years of XO
swirl in the pit of my stomach 
when the last drop disappeared
nothing will erase the memory
of pride within 
the eyes of men