I Need You, My Rock

You grasp my hand in yours

and I swear there isn’t

a more innocent

yet intimate feeling

in the world.

This is the way it felt

when I would hold my best friend’s hand

on the playground

in the park

when we were five.

And now your fingers are wound around mine,

intertwined.

And I feel safe,

like I’ve found home

because this is what puts me at ease.

Our fingers interlocked

and turning blue from the pressure

because you’re squeezing too hard

and I’m squeezing too hard

because neither of us wants to let go.

But even though the color is draining from my fingertips,

there’s a warmth trickling through my veins.

I’m holding on because you’re my rock

and I need you.

You keep me grounded

so I don’t escape like a balloon

some child let go of.

I don’t want to fly away

while you stand,

feet firmly planted on the ground

watching me fade into the distance.

These woven fingers,

they’re my safety net.

I’m begging,

please don’t let go.