Touch

Laughing,

I twisted away from you.

Slipping,

While my hand was still in yours.

Tripping,

even as you held me up.


What is it about us, that makes us, us?


Sighing over mingled breath,

over the touch of your calloused

thumb in my palm.

Your skin on mine,

hot to touch as

my sweat cools you down.


What is it about you, that makes me, me?


The slight catch in your throat

My fingers following a pattern

The haze in your eyes

melting mine.

Our hands intertwined,

mind body and soul


What is it about me, that makes you, you?


Laughing…