by Abner Dormiendo
First, her hands. Then, my soul. She tells me to let
things take its course and I let go. In me, the
first she unlatches is my skin, unmasks me, whole.
I’m shivering as I unravel beneath her touch, a world
the body just discovered—and is this desire, to feel
realest after the first encounter, to thirst for the tenderness of it?
FB Creative Challenge prompt: first. Weirdly difficult for me to write.
Also, this poem has a secret hidden in the poem; two, depending on how you look at it. Look for it. It doesn’t take some fancy person to see the secret. 😉