It's over.. isn't it?

I could educate myself on every single biochemical molecular anatomical physiological cause for such a pain
But I would still never understand why my heart does what it does

Mitts for hands
And I there, enveloped
Helpless and cradled
You sheltered me

Hands holding mine
You, afraid of squeezing
My tiny fingers too tightly,
Led me

Hand eye coordination.
You proved the concept
By making sure your hand
Found my mother's eye, hard.

Hand on my thigh
And every nerve in my body
Fired rapidly
Do not touch me

Guns for hands
You held it in your hand,
Still smoking,
"Wish it was me"

Hands in wrong places
Tell me one thing?
Was she worth it.

Your hands are still as big
And still as forceful