This mans hands came already framed

He had hair so beautiful every lock had its own name

If I were blind the lines on his hands would have felt me a story

He carried me through this journey

He took me from 19 to 40

From disgrace to glory

From a nightmare to a bright morning

There is power in a touch

From the second he graced the room

I swear I felt his rush

There is power in a touch

It means nothing to you

But to me it meant much

So I ran home after the poetry slam and listened to the best of Kem

And naturally I wrote a poem about him

His hands were like magnets that rotated themselves on my blades

He was like a glade plug-in that lingers

Leaves imprints but never fades

It was his prolonged rhyme

And his clock like broken hand

But still made time against me

https://soundcloud.com/mentalnotes-1/her-hands-were-like-magnets

She had hands like magnets on my skin

Sending pulsations tunneled imagination was a combination

That serenaded my porcelain 

There was something in her gaze

And not even a short paraphrase could describe this woman’s hands

They weren’t  like typing hands but sexy chiseled

They were so powerful her energy turned my storm into a drizzle

I’m telling you this woman’s hands were like magnets

Sending sensations in me so deep they left fragments

I know it sounds crazy

But

You didn’t feel her hands!

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