My Hands On My Head

my hands on my head
not to feel what hair is all about

remembering the
hairy feeling and the aftermath of desire

it is over
my hands on my head
for surrender

i do not kiss and tell
my hands on my chest
like holding some treasures
of gold and silver
that is what we are now

i have these seeds of silence
i sow them
and slowly and so patiently i am having this sole opportunity
watching them all grow

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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