The hands of men I've held

A poem

The shoulders I've set my head upon

The foreheads I've pressed with my own.

Each different

in ways I don't remember now

Can't be bothered to remember.

The sum of all is only just a feeling

A collective love

Warmth and satisfaction

What I choose to believe

when I think of my fingers

entertwined with each.

Strong hands

Of weak men

Stronger hands

My own.