Your hands,
have left prints all over my heart.
Each a memory,
pulling at my heart's strings,
like that bass guitar you play so well.
My skin,
remembered you like a favourite sweater
and discovered you like a new book.
Familiar and unknown,
coming together in a cocktail of emotions,
potent enough for me to fall for you.
Your hands,
Shocked me every time,
With how it looked like they were made to lace between mine,
Perfectly.
Your hands,
Played me like piano keys,
Each melody exactly what I wanted to hear.
And when my heart broke in your hands,
I blamed its fragility and delicatness.
but I know now,
that your hands where at fault.
They where my weakness,
and my strength.
Now I have my own.
YOU ARE READING
Fair or Free
Poetry"See, I know life isn’t fair or free Never turn your back on family And even though you love me, let me be I’m sure, I don’t need you anymore." - Loyal Friend and Thoughtful Lover by The Wind and the Wave A series of poems stemming from one of the m...
