© 2014 L.L.

I have an insatiable adoration

For the dip and curve around your wrist

When you cover dry, chapped lips as you laugh at something I hurriedly sputter in the heat of the moment.

And I'm tempted to take grasp of it with nimble, gentle fingers

For I fear the simplest of touch will damage your delicacy.

But then I remember the brute strength of your grip as you watched your mother's eyes lose the gleam of life you always felt was immortal

And I realize the absurdness of my fear.

The day you loosen your grip on my hand will be the day I hold on to your wrist with all my might,

Leaving bruises in its wake,

Wishing for another chance to see you laugh.

© 2014 L.L.