on my right hand
my dominant right hand
you drew a heart
you didn't intend to
it was supposed to be a picture
but i pulled away prematurely
and you said
"Look! It's a heart!"
i looked at you first
your bright eyes
shining like syrup
then i looked back at my hand
my dominant right hand
and smiled for the rest of the period
when i write with my hand
my dominant right hand
i see where my pencil lies
resting beside my fingers
next to my thumb
looking at the heart that you drew
and now that i glance
at my dominant right hand
seeing how, though faded, it still stays
i remember you
bright eyes
warm hands
and a voice like a drug
its not like i dont anyways
YOU ARE READING
Sparrows Song
Poesiashort stories and poems for when the night is old and the day is dark
