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Gods1son Oct 23
Water is used to generate electricity
On my palms, it powers nervousness
Or nervousness stimulates the gushing of water from my palms
Better still, I will say it's a bi-directional mechanism

My drawing class was a mess
Every paper ripped before I could draw a thing
You can't imagine the stress
When your palm is another stream

I dread a handshake
Especially when my hand feels like a lake
I can't stand the expressions on people's faces
Or how they have to quickly clean their hands on their pants
Please find me an escape route
That's the struggle of sweaty palms!
You never understand what people with sweaty palms go through, I haven't found just one benefit in over 20 years that I've been dealing with it.
i read my own palms
in her moonlit master room
at the edge of town
and the heat was tangible
before the spill

jasmine perfume
i dreamt unearthly colours
scintillating as i fell
parallel lines
denoted by the skin
a perfect ending in the dark
ph Jun 29
I sat beneath the old saffron
willow, crumbling leaves
to dust in my soft palms.
Autumn creeped in once again,
setting the trees on fire and carrying
their leaves away with the cool wind.
I looked across the dirt road, at the
old, blackened house, bathed in sunlight.
The peeling paint leapt out like specks of glitter into the wind.
Years of memories were still trapped within its walls.

More than the leaves caught fire.
KM Hanslik May 28
The day will come when we realize
we are worth so much more than what we think, and
the colors from this summer will bleed over
into the next, and my hands will remain warm, and the songs that we play
are tapping out new beats to tug
our heartstrings along to, and the sunrise
will look so much softer standing
in front of you.
I will forget to hold my breath and forget the metal plates around my heart
for the first time in a while,

The day will come that I stop
running, that I take these fragments and look
you in the eye while I attempt to put them back together.
I don't think we realize the weight
of what we're doing yet, the maps
we've laid out are so heavy on the scales of
fate and plans and I'm learning that it's likely
I'll end up somewhere warm without taking
all the precautions that I once thought
so necessary. Everything
in this world runs its course in stages, and you
you were simply the one that came after
the things that tried to break me, you started out as just
another page in my book but I'm hoping
that the ink never dries, i didn't know
I'd been living in corners or
painting myself in dull tones until you showed me the dreams that lay
behind your eyelids and up under
your skin. You are soft and warm
underneath, and I like
how the world rests on your tongue like you could make it
anything you want it to be, and as for me
I'd like to see the new light you
might paint me in and how
this next chapter might turn out sculpted within
the palms of your hands.

run your course through me,
I would love to be
the marks on your skin or
the colors behind your eyes- I would love
to be remembered by you.
sarah Mar 28
i once thought i'd let you build a home in my bones.

i thought you'd write sweet love letters
on the palms of my hands,

i thought you'd slip into my chest
and claim the beat of my heart
for your own,

i thought you'd seal your warmth
into the marrow of my bones,

but time proved that you hadn't planned to settle in.

my chest is empty now, i know.
my palms shake and
my blood is thin and
my bones are pale and cold.

this is no place for a home.
Can I write you a poem
I will place it in my palms
so when I say GOODBYE
you will see what I meant by HELLO.
Poetic T Feb 4
Woven on sheets between palms
                   were the wishes of deaf ears.
We may ask for many things,
but only we are the bearers
                 of our own aspirations.
          Never do we ask for that which isn't right.
Evi Dent Halo Nov 2017
Two palms

In it- what's in it!?

Touch on touch-

Five on five.


A wall in-between

Touching not them

But concrete dust and heat.


Why was this built?

Why this to exist?

One cannot break with lonely two fists.


I only have two, just two.

And I miss.
FINV (Two Palms) v2 (10/9/17-10/22/17) by Evi Dent Halo
emmie cosgrove Jul 2017
He drank water out of my palms

And in return

Drowned me in his
Poetic T Jan 2017
What was warranted couldn't  be more out of
lingering fingers reach, but vainly was the goal
still paused upon. Teased with the view of what
each had wanted but denied.

But stagnant were there en-devours for but a centimetre,
a vastness that  could not be gauged by touch,
yet palms were placed untouched by the other.
An innuendo of what could be but never attained.

Their love was undeniable but there reality was a
vacant space in their hearts. They sat back to back
against this immovable obstacle, mourning the
need to be within the grasp of another.

No tears were ever shown to the other in solace,
they fell like monsoons on the bare floor.
All emotions were departed from the clouds of white
that blinked upon, time then stopped.

They never gave up on the motions that stirred within
and even thought time is finite and what was unforgiving
in their needing was no longer. But time is no friend of
love, and bones were all that was evidence of what once was.

Gazing with empty sockets eternally gazing onto the other,
but where that which had kept them apart had now parted.
Hands of white now clasped within each others touching,
for an eternity for an eternity.

Where in the echoes of the past which could not be obtained
were now holding on in death. Vacant puddles stare into
each other and where there was two singular now they are
silently holding onto each others memory.
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