Curves Across My Body

His fingertips felt the crevices deep within my skin,
fascinated with the unfamiliar curves of my body.
He memorized ever dip and jolt, because he feared he would forget.

The palm of his hand glided across the mauve tone,
relieving the pressure with his reassuring touch.
Replacing the cold tone of my pigment with his own warmth.

He latched to my fist.
I clenched at the thought of having to open it;
however he knew that.
His creamy exterior flowed over me like a river;
releasing the tension cemented into my palm.
Restoring my hand to its former glory,
of an exposed field waiting for someone to plant their daisy seeds.

He allowed his fingers to linger on the edges of my surface.
Because he too was afraid to jump into the water;
to let go of the land his fingertips became so familiar to.
The water became darker at each passing glance,
as the land was heated by the sun.

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