Your hands are like knives
Cutting away my flaws
Smoothing all of my sharp,
broken edges
So I am safe
So you can trust that I will not cut myself with my own shoulder blades
Because you cared enough to worry about loosing me
Your hands have traveled
Over other girls' bodies and yes
That bothers me a lot but in the end
I am okay
In the end it was okay because your hands were keeping me safe
Your hands are covered in dots and dashes
painting the Morse code written story of you
which is engraved into your veins
Filled with blood flowing like tears of which your hands have wiped from my eyes
Like the tears you caused
Your hands get so shaky when you are angry,
yet they are gentle to the touch
Your hands are my sweetest dream
Every time your hands grasp mine
it is like giving me lovely oxygen that smells like refreshing, cold rain after years of smoke and gasoline draining directly to my broken grey lungs
Your hands erased the sad thoughts that filled my mind with holes giving me a chance to rest after so many years living day after day with no break a breath,
a relief to feel your hands on my hips trailing up my ribs fixing every bruise, filling all of the cracks, repairing all of the damage
Your hands are the only I want to hold
Only because they are your hands.
