Etched on your palms
Were thousands of my love letters
Traced along your line of heart
was the secret language of my soul
In your hands I found
the warmth that embraced my cold ones
The tender silence you offered
when the world was too busy to listen
And now,
As pieces of you start to fade away
Your hands remain….
The phantom limbs that hold me fast still.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
Etched on your palms
Were thousands of my love letters
Traced along your line of heart
was the secret language of my soul
In your hands I found
the warmth that embraced my cold ones
The tender silence you offered
when the world was too busy to listen
And now,
As pieces of you start to fade away
Your hands remain….
The phantom limbs that hold me fast still.
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