My hands are rough
From doing bars
Doing pull ups
Putting chalk
Wearing grips
Constant contact with rough wood
My hands have to be rough for my sport
My hands are rough
A sign of what I've been through
Of how hard I work
Of how much I push myself
A sign of bravery and courage
My hands are rough
Blistered from holding on to people that have already cut me off
Scarred from trying to piece my broken heart together
Callouses from building on one sided relationships
My hands are rough
Something to be insecure about
Something I keep to myself
And I didn't really care
Until you
My hands are rough
And I've been worried
That no one would want to hold on to them
That they'd be hurt by my hands
That they aren't the hands they want to hold on to
And so I warm my own hands
My hands are rough
But you choose to hold on to them
Despite the blisters, cuts, and callouses
I know it might not be the pair of best hands in the world
And I'm sorry I can never give you those
But I have never felt safer and more secure
Than when your hands are interlocked with mine