Quick to spoil her
underneath clothing,
he never refused
to touch.
His hands knew
exactly
how to
hold her.
Her gift to him
was feeling,
but she never
asked him
for sadness.
When he left,
the door closed
on wet eyes.

Categories: Art, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: c.eve, dark poetry, eve, ofeve, poem, poems, poetry, shadowofeve, the first eve, thefirsteve, writing