Is this one Mine?

Take your deepest of blacks,
Open your hand,
Gently caress the chosen nail,
Apply one long stroke,
Then another,
One more makes three,
Admire your work,

The first one is always for me,
The remaining nine are yours,
As you lay your last stroke of black,
And your brush away,
Admire your beautifully painted nails,
One is mine,
The rest are yours,

I see your hands, the tips all doled in black,
They are all equally fascinating,
I hold your left hand, wonder is mine here?
I feel each finger from palm to nail, will I touch my nail?
I sense the texture of the brush as each stoke was applied,
I touch all the nails, seeking, feeling, sensing,
You know if I'm close, I may even find it right away,
But you laugh, enjoying the elicit feelings emitting from your hand,
And pull it away.

I take your other hand,
This one is now cold to the touch as the first one once was,
The sudden change in hands re-ignites your arousal,
I gently feel this hand, and wonder did I miss it before?
The anticipation of discovery is no less,
The beauty of your right is a mirror of the left,
The one difference - one is mine,
but on which hand, and on what finger, is the black nail mine?

There are ten, one is mine,
What will I win if I know?
Will all your mystery be gone?
Sometimes it is best not to know,
For the answer is not the prize,

It is but a silly game,
Not all can play,
We only two,
Know the rules...

...Each moment that your hand is in mine,
...Each moment your fingers are caressed,
...Each moment a nail is touched,
...Each moment you smile with my touch,
...Each moment a shiver runs through your hand,
...Each moment your hand rubs against mine,
...Each moment your nails press into me,
...Each moment your hand pulls away,
...Each moment you laugh by a gentle tickle of your fingers,
...Each moment our eyes touch,
is a moment I wonder...
Is this one mine?