Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2013
I know you like the back of my hand
because although I see you everyday,
although I have known you forever,
there is no way I could ever describe you
in a way that paints a picture
and leaves out nothing,
and I do not want to leave out anything.
I want to remember every freckle (there are so many of them),
every vein pumping blood to your heart,
every word,
every day I spend with you,
but sometimes the things you see the most
are the least familiar to you
or perhaps
when you know someone or something so well
words limit what you can say.
The back of my hand is not just my hand:
twitching with life, it is a part of me.
You are not just a person:
bringing me to life, you are a part of me.
I used to look the blue currents under my skin
and hope they would burst,
but now they remind me of your translucent skin
and the way I can see every vein in your arms
and the way your arms make me feel safe from myself
and I'm okay.
Dr. Tim would be so proud I'm writing woop woop
Written by
Jill Stinehart
Please log in to view and add comments on poems