HANDS
These hands of mine have held grief like a mother holds on to her child.
Held pain in them like a bride cradles her jewels.
Misery and loneliness are like the lines engraved on my palms.
Love is a language my hands refused to write
A galaxy thousand miles away
My hands can't dare to stretch towards
Affection is like fire
I dare not hold it in this grief stricken hands of mine
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Written for a challenge
“Write about your hands — what they've held, what they've let go.”
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