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When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

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I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Your Candle Burning In the Wind

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

On Sunny Days , As I Pose For The Skies 3/17/2022

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What Is The Price For  Your Touch


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your hands so warm
are made for touching
the palms and
the fingertips
affect me as if I were
melting butter

your hands sit folded in front of you
poised to touch
but not touching
and then are tucked away
into the deep pockets of your baggy pants

if I were bread dough
I'd rise to meet them
becoming so malleable
the breadth of your supple longer fingers
would need/knead me into deep sighs

men think their power
comes from words and size and dominance
but their power comes from their hands
and their choices to be gentle

I long for the stippling of your finger tips
weaving across my protruding collarbone
then traveling down my neck
where they linger as
your kisses would

please,
why
is there a price
for your touch?

not being touched
is a thought
my heart can't bear

why do distances become
so wide
that you seem unreachable

I'm treading the waters near your shore
there are rocks and eddies
and sneaker waves lashing the shoreline

it makes me wonder
what is your price
knowing,
I have already paid it,
I am priceless
then, why
the price for your touch?


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LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 1/25/2022 1:11PM PST AND ALSO FOR THIS POET
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD.....

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