Thumbing Flesh

I still feel your handprints on my body; 

Cupping my jaw when we kissed. 

Tracing my curves in the sketchbook of your mind, 

Your gaze gnawed at my exposed flesh. 

Your hands cup my jaw when we kiss. 

Smooth, slender fingers fixate on my creases. 

Thumbing at my bloody flesh, 

You mark it for your own gallery. 

Slender, smooth fingers hook onto my creases, 

Drawing out the entrails etched in your museum. 

Marking them for exhibition, 

As I still feel your handprints on my body. 

Mounted for your viewing pleasure,

I hang lifeless as I weep.

Handprints etched in my sweet tissue.

Framed, but never claimed by you.