3/11/2019
Hold my hand
Holding a whisper against my palm
Tracing my life through your fingertips
Listening and hearing from the very beds of your nails
Keeping a secret wrapped around your fingers
Intertwined with the sweet company of your voice
Biting on my nails from the nerves of your touch
Nerve endings connect to reach a secret coded love story
The same love story I've dreamed of for years
The same love poem that I've written without your name
That now, I whisper without a doubt
That you hold my hand and I see you for the first time
One hundred days go by and you hold me closer still
Fingertips on my palm, following the lines of my doubt
And trace them right back to my heart
Where they dissipate with the will of your whispers
Unearth the broken secret that my hands hold
Erase the vestige of hesitancy in my voice
And sketch scars that line my wrist, writing a story between them
Silver fingertips that line my face and drum on my heart
The beating beats of bliss against my fingers
Brushing your thumb against the side of my hand
Soothing the rocking unrest inside of me
Your hands hold mine
And cradle my palm
And everything is okay