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Hands
Here is my face for you in Pandora’s box
My body I give dressed in ribbons to unwrap
Parade these you ask me, and then name me Vanity
Love these you tell me, and then paint over my canvas
These Feet have known soft sand and wet stones
Dragged themselves through many shoes in many sizes
I have walked on coals through this life
These Legs have carried my soul through open sea
Pushed me through ballet classes and rope swings
I have run till they ache with lead and kept running
These are my Arms, held too tightly
Touched strangers, lovers and fallen to sides uselessly
They have served me well
These Hands have written soliloquy’s and danced along keys
Fingers that create colours and history and new stars
Tumbling words from thumbs relentlessly giving, thank you
These lips have whispered stories
Kissed without provocation
Sung praises to higher loves
Told lies that stuck like toffee to my teeth
Lips that contorted the truth set a match to tears and shaky smiles
These Eyes have watched the world go by in startling
Undiluted colours before drifting into safe darkness
These Eyes have smashed healing hearts and lost
Sight of beauty then found it again and again
These melancholy Eyes have painted thoughts
And hung them in galleries unapologetically
This body. This face. Infant and Ancient
These Hands, these Eyes are paintbrushes dipped in spirit
Weathering storms, they bleed and blush
Scratching and sweating through life they remain
My touch tells tales of the ships I pass in the night
You must forgive me
If it does not look like yours
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