Gloves for life

I handle my previous

With tight gloves of no value.

I shake hands I admire

With naked skin.

I grab hot stimulant liquids

With shaky fingers.

My chubby fingers lie crossed,

My mind flies high.

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Short fingers

I have only short fingers
To tell my story
And type passionately this night.
In this short distance,
All life condenses in drops of memories
And vapour of lost kisses.
Short words will be ideal
To write those heavy memories,
The persons that can only be remembered,
And the baby steps I climbed
And now behind my back.