We used our hands too much
That’s why

Our palms began to scorch
In sweat and whispered confessions
From tight grips in long walks
Our fingers are knotted securely together  
That our knuckles have turned white

We pointed at bowls of soup
We want to taste from restaurant menus
At clothes in shop windows
At stars, funny blog posts, movie posters

You, holding an umbrella out for me
When it rains out
From picking up a fight with a ******
Who used a lousy pick-up line on me
From attempting to sketch my face

I, massaging your aching muscles
From writing poems about you
Holding warm mugs of coffee
While watching you play your guitar

I began losing mine
After hushing you
With the finger I accidentally cut
From cutting cherry tomatoes
For your salad
And then I bit off my thumb
When you didn’t calm yourself
And began to speak even louder
To me

I knew you lost yours
When you barely reach out
For my hand anymore
But I think you still had a few
On your left hand

I know
Because I heard the door open
And shut