Your hands linger short of late.
What took your time for me to sit and wait?
Slowly and painfully.
But sure enough you lingered, while I longed.
For tongues to tie, a union of two.
Two who emerge from lost feelings, to be looked upon by tender eyes.
To be seen I’ve longed.
And here you are in front of me, holding my heart as you bare it.
bare my tails of woe, tales of tears, and what I need to let go.
For a hand so great, could ever hold this grief; it could only be yours.
Now rest in mine, tired boy.
I hold guilt for asking of you to hold the weight.
If the dense truth of who I am, what came of me and what I’ve came of, is too tiring of a burden; tell me.
For you to linger a little more, would mean the world.