Your fingers are like twigs
So delicate and frail.
I fear they may snap
If I grasp your hand too hard.
Your lips are like pink petals
That may tear if I kiss too roughly.
Your eyes resonate a sorrow,
Deep pools that are ready to overflow.
I cannot look too long,
For fear I may cause them to well up
And release more pain than necessary.
Your breath is like a whisper
Trying to call out in the dark.
My clouded senses cannot hear you,
Your calls are too faint.
But your voice is pure
And full of good intentions.
I fear I may destroy these intentions
With my muddled mind
That works in deep waves
Crashing over you.
You are precious
And fragile.
I fear I will break your tender soul
Into small pieces that will drift away with the wind.
But I am also certain
That your sweet fragility
Will ease my hard demeanor
And cradle my rugged body
Until I can hold your hand
Without snapping the twigs.