Fingertips

I am so in love with your fingertips,
The perfect places where mine should fit,
My hands too small to be considered dainty
My fingers too wide to be considered beautiful.

Your hands counter act mine,
Fill the spaces where mine end,
Your hands too large to be considered feminine,
You fingers too long to be considered slender.

Yet your hands are beautiful,
So pale with dark hairs,
Nails long and perfectly filed.
How I long to trace my fingertips over you and memorize every detail.

I am also hopelessly in love with your hair,
The hair the world never thought to give me,
How long and louscious,
How it falls in dark waves.

I was never allowed that sense of beauty,
I got the blonde without the blue,
The freckles without the tan,
The short without the slim.

I could compare you to so many things,
A snowy, moonlit night,
Two worlds that have just collided,
A shadow moved by a breeze.
Yet nothing truly compares.

I could try a million ways to tell you how beautiful you are,
With the sun in your eyes,
The rain on your nose,
The wind in your hair,
Fog clinging to your form,
But words get twisted and turned into dust.

I am so in love with your fingertips and your hair in the moonlight,
I long that those fingertips will find my heart and feel it beat for you,
I yearn to run my fingertips through your hair and let you know how much I adore you.
And I hope that one day our fingertips will meet,
And there will be no definition between me and you.