I trace remorse in sinews of your arm.
My fingers map the shadows of your hand;
Your gasping shudder in a sweet alarm
At angles where your slender neck does bend:
Our curious hands destroying bodies’ calm,
And tentative, two cheeks their spaces mend.
What guilt is written of your youthful charm!
A fiery joy shows me another land—
How nervous, I, when faced with you alone,
Another self that I can call mine own;
Here, hand in hand, our lives begin to start—
Illegally we roam, exploring other nights,
And when our fingers intertwine delight,
Your hand goes through my back and grasps my heart.