hes | 741. Untitled

Based on the third prompt at

even_angels_ for the sixth round. :)

She traced her profile
behind closed lids
letting fingertips realize
what the eyes could not believe.

Like a ghost made real,
a dream made flesh;
over and over again,
eyes follow roaming hands
in random patterns of need.

Breathless in disbelief,
heartbeats resume
in staccato rapidity --
the mind racing
to catch up with reality.

A finger-light touch
tracing its way
up and down
past sensitive niches.

The hint of a smile
is the only clue
that the travels traced
are a silent apology
and redemption all at once;
they were the stations of joy.