by
Her hands were rough but gentle
Callouses forged from a life of battle
Palms as smooth as the finest satin
As they journey across my skin the gestures are blunt but their purpose is smooth
These are the hands of a survivor, a fighter, a warrior
Hands that have destroyed, but now rebuild
Hands that have pillaged, but now bear gifts
Hands that have killed, but now fill me with new life
They seem to caress every inch of me
And while I know their owner is as unsure as I
Their travels take them to new welcome depths
Finding their way as if it was her own body
I can sense each fingertip
Drawing lines on my skin, invisible to the eye
But bright as fire to the heart
Each unique print is burned, seared into my skin
A tattoo of this moment, a testament to this memory
Their destination realised those hands do their best to veil tentativeness for teasing
A heart beat passes, and then I cry out as those strong courageous hands carry out their task
One it seems they have been meant to do from the beginning of time
It feels as though they are supporting me, holding me high as elation fills my soul
The sensation of them being able to hold me aloft for a lifetime as I writhe
I feel the callouses again, rough but welcome in a place far more sensitive than before
Callouses a lifetime in the creating and only to be added to in times to come
For my warriors hands will never be still
They work to undo a part as integral to her as the lines etched in her palms
But tonight in this moment
While those hands may have the determinedness of a survivor,
May be as hardened as those of a fighter, and as courageous as those of a warrior
They are achieving their true potential, reaching the most perfect of goals
They are the hands of my lover, and their destiny is fulfilled.