Sand

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Your hands 

They were like sand 

Like the first memories I had of the beach when I was fiveI sunk my fingers into the ground and felt the grit scraping my cuticles 

 Every grain was a story unknown to me 

From origins unknown to me 

From intentions unknown to me 

But what I do know is that they are here 

Holding mine 

Warm, rough and loving 

Holding my soft skin

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