Creases and WrinklesA Poem by amomentforusLoving you, a mannerism. 40 years of my hand on your thigh, and I don't think it knows rest anywhere else. The unlooking rubs of your back. Time only passed, there when my withered fingers noticed your softened skin. © 2024 amomentforus |
StatsAuthor
amomentforusNew York, NYAboutamomentforus is a writer/poet from NYC. She explores the intersection of memory and identity through character explorations highlighting human desire and motivation. With a background in Psychology an.. more..Writing
|
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing