How sweet it is
That we humans love to hold hands
Would it be my choice
To hold on to a lifeless
Sweaty appendage?
Not really.
At least,
Not until I held your hand
It was not lifeless
It was a living, breathing being
With a mind of its own
Trickling its way up my side
Caressing my face
And slapping me,
Hard
So hard,
It left a print for me
To remember you by
So I guess your brain
Was behind the hand
After all