Those gentle hands
Stirring the pancake mix
In a bowl
The hands of my mother
The hands that first hit me
The hands of my first lover
The ones that undressed me
Impatiently
The ones that
Should have been stopped
The ones that caused scars
And held me tight
In a bundle of
Grass and blood
And blue tablecloth
I beg to never forget
The touch of your hands
Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 7:14 AM UTC
Those gentle hands
Stirring the pancake mix
In a bowl
The hands of my mother
The hands that first hit me
The hands of my first lover
The ones that undressed me
Impatiently
The ones that
Should have been stopped
The ones that caused scars
And held me tight
In a bundle of
Grass and blood
And blue tablecloth
I beg to never forget
The touch of your hands
