December 13, 2015

Caress Me. {Poem}


I want you to caress me.

Not just my skin that feels.

Not just my lips that yearn.

Not just the back of my neck that craves your delicacies but the very essence that makes me breathe.

I want you to not only caress me with your hands and fingertips—I want to feel your consciousness penetrating the insecurities I carry.

I want you to caress me as if you were carrying a delicate flower.

I want you to caress me as if we were passionate lovers spending our last night against each other.

Caress me as if you could see my wounds drawn out clearly on a map and like you are the only medicine I would ever need to heal.

Caress me like I have never had a surface, never known barriers as a wildfire knows none and burns through life without fear, knowing what will re-birth soon after.

I want you to caress me like you have never known skin.

Never known lips.

Always known me.



I Promise to Touch You.

Author: Azaria Menezes

Apprentice Editor: Brandie Smith/Editor: Caitlin Oriel

Photo: José Manuel Ríos Valiente/ Flickr

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