his fingers carry the

weight of the world

more than his

shoulders ever could.

tightly hanging on by

a dozen little threads,

his fingers web the

world's pieces into

a tapestry. with each

new tug and each

new tragedy, he

strings these threads

like a guitar, just

waiting for the

sorrow to end and

the peace to begin.

with an extended

pointer finger, he

draws a line down

the middle of the

threads, strumming

them all at once.

strumming and

stringing, he molds

his tapestry into

his entire world.

into his

environment. with

shadows in every

corner, and his

heart in the middle,

my boyfriend

uses his fingers to

send me shivers. he

runs them down my

back with care and a

soft caress. he touches

the parts of me i

didn't know needed

attention. with his

fingers, he sees the

real me that i am

too terrified to show

anybody else. his

thumb dangles above

the threads of my

heart, too, gently

touching the faded

strings that are

pulling apart at 

the ends and

fringing. he loves

them just the same

as his own web of

strings. with a click

of his tongue, his

fingers move across

the web with

expertise. "don't

stop," i ask, and i

wonder if any man

will ever love me

more. love me more

deeply or authentic

than he. and in that

moment, i couldn't

really care, i just wanted

nico and his soft,

long, bony fingers

to captive my soul

with the hymns of

his own intentions.