These Hands

Haven, my love, I miss u so much. I wish I could be where you are. I want desperately to show you how much you mean to me. But what shall I do, eh? What is it that I must do to prove to you just how much I care for you? Shall I erect a figure of you from stones? Shall I plant you a grand garden? Shall I fashion you a magnifiscant blue dress? Shall I massage your body, touch you, bury you in kisses? You should know I'd do anything for you, I'd climb the highest mountain. I would fight an army for you. I would go any length to reach you. Oh how I long to make you smile, to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you. I want so badly to express my feelings for you, but my words are too weak, they are always muted when my hands speak, yelling their love as they do their works. These hands, they are the portal to my soul. They burn with the desire to release their love, to sing their desires, to dance along your body, to work, to fight, to comfort. But as much as I want to hold you, to touch you, I can't, my arms aren't long enough to bridge this gap, you remain outside of my reach. But these hands burns still, smoldering like hot coals, waiting for there chance to blaze. This is the language I speak. I speak through my hands. It pains me that I can't speak to you how I would like to. But I'll just have to talk like normal people for now I guess. Until we meet again my love.