To love through femininity
is a softer kind of love.
The delicate touch of my fingertips,
only wrapping my smallest finger
around yours,
just enough for you to feel me.
The curves of my body,
soft and gentle when I hold you.
Our bodies align like jigsaw pieces,
folding into place
when they find their missing halves.
I wrap pink ribbon around your wrist,
tying the end into a pretty bow,
pressing my lips to your fingertips.
You run your fingers through my hair,
my hands twist yours into braids,
long strands reaching out
begging to be tangled together.
You cradle my face
in your delicate embrace,
so gentle,
like you’re afraid I may break.
Two sets of crimson stained lips
press together.
Soft, sweet, and welcoming
like the pillow I lay my head at night,
I find comfort with my eyes closed.
You smell so sweet,
like fresh flowers in the rain,
I am drowning in you
and drinking you in greedily.
I have never felt a love so earnest,
so real and sincere and true.
I had never known love to be gentle
until I was loved by you.
Gwen Pederson, Writing Portfolio 