We took quiet steps down a lonely street I had never stepped foot in before. The air felt tense since it was more than clear that you didn't feel like talking, not anymore. You stopped suddenly and backed me against a wall. We made out slowly whilst I felt an old lady watching us from her front steps, maybe I was just imagining her since it was time for me to go, I had to meet up with my friends. Two steps forward and you stopped again looking at me with a shy smile and intertwined our hands. My palms were sweaty and my rings poked at your skin but you insisted that you didn't care. It was also the last time we held hands. - hand holding.
Inspired by a prompt from Madisen Kuhn's Instagram stories. "Write a poem about the first time you held someone's hand".
Although I’m sure my presence is starting to become more than a little vexatious, I still hold your hand as often as I possibly can. Partially because I find how rough your hands are compared to the rest of your body to be very pleasing, but mostly because I feel obligated. Don’t take it the wrong way, I don’t feel obligated in the sense that I’m being forced. I just know that we humans come into and leave this world alone, and I know all that you’ve seen. So I’ll hold your hand while we lay in bed at night, cross the road, and walk through the grocery store, readjusting my grip as our fingers start slipping. And when I notice you start slipping and losing your grip on this world and all it has too offer, I’ll readjust whatever it is that need readjusting. I’ll hold on even tighter so you don’t have to. Just don’t give up. I know it’s hard, and I know you know that we humans come into and leave this world alone. But when I hold your hand, I have the entire world at my fingertips.
The fond tenderness in her porcelain hands, She lays so delicate rubbing her soft thumb in my palm, Pulling on my affectionate attraction which I not yet understand. Have we always held our delicate electric love? Or has the new dawn of chivalry released this dove? Is this simply a delectable infatuation? Or a sincere connection? Not confused, just lost in you in these bittersweet moments, You say you do not have a single string attached to me, Alas, for I am your dedicated puppet my dear. There is no land nor sea I wouldn’t traverse to only draw near, For you see, it is only my nature, To love such a stranger.
in this small seculuded spot where our actions speak louder then our thoughts but our mouths spoke the words of mimes on the 9-5 broke the silence by asking the time while waiting on the divine moment ...where your hand was right next to mine a movement so suttle seemed like moving mountains or sneaking threw land mines so i reached across the dark blue seat to form a forgien handshake the place our palms would first meet