Zywa How a hand

How a kiss feels, a hand
that is groping me
I don't talk about that

I watch it curiously
in the darkness of a movie theater
or at home, where I can press the pause

safely can surrender
to the thrill and merge
into the image, into the text

the uncovered terms
between wanting and not wanting
which assault me

with almost real hands

Poem 1235
Amsterdam, 2017-03-21

Collection: Eyes lips chest and belly 
Keyword: Contact: touch(ed) 
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