My hands, reach out to connect,
To feel an intimate embrace,
Yet a part of me must reject,
That warm look on their face,
My hands, stained with guilt,
Slip away, leaving me cold and alone,
Those once close, now gone,
The disguise of warmth I once wore, now blown,
My hands, lined with thorns,
***** those who attempt to thaw me out,
And I convince myself-
I couldn’t help but hurt them, there’s no doubt,
My hands, a warning of who I am,
A product of my cowardice,
My apprehension to commit
And my refusal,
To hold on.
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 8:52 PM UTC
My hands, reach out to connect,
To feel an intimate embrace,
Yet a part of me must reject,
That warm look on their face,
My hands, stained with guilt,
Slip away, leaving me cold and alone,
Those once close, now gone,
The disguise of warmth I once wore, now blown,
My hands, lined with thorns,
***** those who attempt to thaw me out,
And I convince myself-
I couldn’t help but hurt them, there’s no doubt,
My hands, a warning of who I am,
A product of my cowardice,
My apprehension to commit
And my refusal,
To hold on.
