Your Wrists

Your wrists 
I have always known to be 
Thin
So much thinner than mine
With white skin 
Stretched tight
Pearlescent, I could see your 
Blue veins shimmer, 
Small tunnels, through your
Soft skin 
Mother, 
Your wrists were so pale
But your arms were so strong 
You held me so close
I would rub those wrists
Between my thumb and
Forefinger 
The motion, over your 
Warm, barely concealed by flesh
Life force underneath 
I could feel it beating out 
The beat of a thousand years 
Of mothers concerns
And comforts 
 
If those wrists held me 
Now 
I would give a thousands words 
To kiss their violet trails
To smell your 
Warm, rich, floral
Scent bleed from beneath 
Soft pores 
And I would write you 
A thousands lines 
But 
 
I love wrists, 
That fragile part of human anatomy
Because I loved yours 
First 
And I don’t need a thousand 
Words or lines or years
To say I learned to love
Through 
Your wrists

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