Caress my neck (by adeline norris)

I caress my own neck 
And trace along my own collar bones. 
Sometimes, 
When I move my hair behind my ear, 
I crave another’s rough fingers. 

My neck is warm,
Strained, 
Exhausted from holding up my vacant thoughts everyday. 

I lay in bed and push my hair back,
Slowly creep my fingers to my vocal cords, 
And feel all I have ever spoken. 

My neck is an intimate spot. 
It reminds me of loneliness, 
Lack of communication. 

I crave another’s fingers 
To sense my warmth and my strain. 
To feel all I have ever spoken.