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.


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