Smooth Pressure

There's this feeling like a little gasp 

I've caught inside my chest 

that runs and flows behind my ribs, 

a river of some emotion 

that I cannot yet define, 

spreading out its fingers 

into spaces walled off by sadness 

and dusted with years 

of quiet anger and regret. 

And it softly but completely possesses me 

when you take my hand 

and tell me silently, convincingly 

that I am strong enough. 

You speak to me with honesty 

and in your eyes I see your masks, 

the masks that you don't wear with me, 

both comedy and tragedy 

lain down beside your feet 

as you stand exposed before me, 

willing me to take you on. 

And though I don't know what I feel 

coursing through my chest 

I do know that I feel the soft memory 

of a hand laid on my back, 

the smooth pressure of a kiss, 

and for now, 

and for tonight, 

that's all I need to know.