Amour Books Poetry: Hands on My Thighs

By K. Danielle

In the middle of the night
Creeping their way up
I feel them
Subtly
Awakened, I recognize the touch
His hands have found
A resting place
And any insecurity
Is soon replaced
My beauty is appreciated
Celebrated
Never hated
Never faded
Never envious of the features
on the covers of magazines
It does not matter
How my hair is styled
Or what I wear
When his hands are on my thighs
He has not a care
No early morning rising
To beat my face before he wakes
MAC and Maybelline are nice
But I’ve never been a Covergirl
Of any type
Don’t mistake my confidence
For vanity
Don’t mistake
My sometimes
Split second uncertainty
For envy
Jealousy
Has never been
in my vocabulary
That’s the beauty of love
From within
It’s not affected
By what’s on my skin
And every night
For no other reason
Than the fact that he finds me
Irresistible
Inside and out
In the middle of the night
His hands
Are on my thighs

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