his missing touch





Can I flat my palm
to plain your brow
the way the waves 
smoothen the sand
before the shore?

I want my thumbs
to dangle and hang
that slender bangs 
fasten onto the twin
hedges of your ears 

Dear. . .

pls allow this reverent hand
to pass over your forehead;
it heralds the advent
of your yearning wait
for my rarest kisses. 

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