Your hands make my skin filthy
And my growing desire for you
To touch me
More
Shapes
The guilt
Hanging
From a string over me
Nesting within my hair,
Crawling back to your hand
Caught.

Your hands make my skin filthy
And my growing desire for you
To touch me
More
Shapes
The guilt
Hanging
From a string over me
Nesting within my hair,
Crawling back to your hand
Caught.
