Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
My hands fascinate me because all I have left of her is the dirt under my fingernails. The lines in my palms all point towards the past and everything I've ever held. And my fat knuckles are getting harder and harder for me to keep cracking them. Nails, bones, knuckles, tendons, joints, creases, cuticles, scars, burns, varicose veins. No two hands are ever held the same.
0
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Hands held
My hands fascinate me because all I have left of her is the dirt under my fingernails. The lines in my palms all point towards the past and everything I've ever held. And my fat knuckles are getting harder and harder for me to keep cracking them. Nails, bones, knuckles, tendons, joints, creases, cuticles, scars, burns, varicose veins. No two hands are ever held the same.
Listerineyedrops
Written by
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem