i always thought of your hands as i prayed over stone and stained bedsheets
i know you held hands with everyone you loved but when our fingers locked it felt permanent and special
your hands replaced cold ghosts and left new ones behind
and even when your memory harvested pain i felt warmth in the phantom touches
YOU ARE READING
poetic rambles
Poetryim not a poet by any means, this is just fun and therapeutic for me and it's easier to post them here than it is to share them with people i know. maybe this will help me build up to that :>
