a sky dotted with

your fingertips always felt like they were laced with spider silk,
coarsely going into and out of your skin,
brushing against every fiber of my being.

you always thought your hands looked creepy,
spider like, the way the twisted and turned,
but truth be told, i love they way your hand moves.

the clumsy way you can't use chopsticks,
and the exotic relationship your hand had with the piano,
even more the affair your hands had with me.

you're more rare than silk worms,
and i'd travel to malaysia way before i traveled to china,
because i know there'd be more beautiful webs you've weaved.

i remember a day i sat out side of the school with my best friend,
staring at all the little wisps of clouds,
he saw paul mccartney's face,

i saw a sky dotted with spider webs.