Gentleness of words
Can heal the wounds of heart,
But sincerity of touch
Can blossom every part.

Those hands that touch
Can be hard or rough,
Imposition is easy
Moulding is tough.

It generates feelings
No one can express,
The memory that is created
Can neither be hidden nor supressed.

There is a meek line
Between love and lust,
Whether your intentions are tainted or pure
It makes or breaks someone's trust.

For gaining satisfaction
Don't misuse one's concern,
Because this right to touch
Is hard to earn.
Feelings are churned
True selves are shown,
In this fire of Love
Souls are burned.

-REEVES