We knew love had no space.
No choice, but to force it
into a tight space.
We handled with delicate hands.
Anticipating expansion,
while we played like kids,
and laughed like old friends.
Love was on reserve.
His smile was infectious.
His dimples, imprinted in my mind.
Emulating his smile like it was mine,
all mine.
I knew him when love was foreign
and a touch meant nothing.
And nothing became something.
And somethings meant everything.
No other intoxication like warm
hands on tight hips. Like lost eyes
finding their way back. Like love was
deferred for a moment.
Poem On The Beginnings Of Love
Love On Reserve
Published by Family Friend Poems February 2013 with permission of the Author.
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