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xmxrgxncy
Poems
Nov 2015
Hands
Oh, no.
You don't want
these
hands.
Worn and weary from many a night they've spent tapping against a tabletop, waiting for an inspiration that almost never shows itself...
Not these.
Battle scarred from wars fought against an ivory foe, the checkerboard pressure staining them a white and then a red deeper than Macbeth's blood....
Trust me.
Full of pain from furiously scrawling onto shredded napkin bits hopes, dreams, and fantasies that can only be revealed by the power of the pen...
They're broken.
They do not expect
Think
Want
To be held in another's.
But then, there's you.
Just you.
How?
I see you.
And suddenly, my hands-worn, weary, battle scarred, full of the deepest pain imaginable.......
Suddenly, they're not empty anymore.
I'm holding you.
I have tendinitis. But holding his hands, playing piano, writing....my life couldn't go on without them. And then of course there is always him.
#john
Written by
xmxrgxncy
21/F/the forest
(21/F/the forest)
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