September 16th, 2021
Late night scribbles on falling in love with your hands.
The hands you were born with.
The skin lines that follow a story.
Basked in the creme of hemp.
The strong, earthy smell.
The fingers that clung to my back, when we embraced to say goodbye.
Imagine there had been no next time.
Your hand that held my hand. So close. So loving.
Your hands told me a story. I felt your path in the palm of my hands.
You didn’t fall in love with your hands. They weren’t your favourite. I in turn, fell in love.
I miss your hands. The fingers that stroke my back, went through my hair.
I long for your hands. The hands that are so uniquely yours. Only yours.