your hands are cold
and they don't fit in mine
our fingers struggle to make the fit

your face jumps from sweet relaxation
to indignant self defense
and psychoanalysis

you always struggle to say the right thing
but usually
you are dumb

you're slowly opening up to me
letting me in because I'd never hurt you
unlike how you've treated me

let's hold mismatched hands
trade bits of our hearts with each other
relax and be free with me