The Back of My Hand

The back of 
one's hand
one's palm 
kneading mine
The graze
made
on
The right side
Corner of 
My spine
against 
my better
sensibilities
One cradling
 the back of
my feet
As if they
were my heart
How could
I forget?
And yet
why do I feel
like I'm a 
business deal
something one
knows all too well
Like secret sonnets of
past loves
memorized
eyes wide shut
Unspoken
Truths
Like
Scars and veins
that protrude
and that which
I know too well
Like the back
Of my hand. 

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