Artist Hands

I’m confused by men with steady hands
After running away from boys
who only know how to rough house

I’m confused by men with soft lips
The kind I stare at when
they smile — and don’t think
I missed the smile on them
in between the kisses you gave me

I’m not a woman, not fully
but in your arms,
I feel dainty and small
on my own accord, not because I have to be.

I comment on your artist hands,
intentional and precise
You touch the dip in my lower back
tracing my hips
And I wonder if this what it’s like
When men aren’t toxic

I’ve noticed people describe you
as lovely and beautiful
and you’re not offended.
You have nothing to prove.

And maybe I’ll stay here
just a little longer
sipping tea and swirling
in the warmth and comfort
of your laughter.

Art by @poetryncolor