#handholding
Don't try to hold my hand (because I'm a jellyfish)
Love is like lightning,
Beautiful from a distance,
But just wait till you're struck by it
Don't try to hold my hand (because I'm a jellyfish)
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
there was a moment in time
when death sat beside me on a park bench
and he had rested his hand on the gap between us
i,
too,
rested my hand there
and brushed my fingers against his
and for a chaste moment
i savoured the warmth of his skin
and intertwined my hand with his
but he stood up
and left
and maybe he knew,
it was for the better.
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 6:09 AM UTC
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.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
They told me the only thing that could cure heartache was war, and since the war wouldn't take me I figure the only thing to do now is take up a life of crime. Gabriel Garcia Marquez says in Love in the Time of Cholera that the only cure for heartache is to find other hearts to break. Five years have passed and I still remember without fail the flint of a lighter, the squint of an eye, and the bell of your dress. I dream a dream each night, sweet variation of the story of you. It comes down to a letter sometimes, I go to the window well with a notebook and a pencil and I draft a sonnet, sometimes a verse, any form of an expression to idle the time it takes for me to find you. I know stars that haven't lived as long. The way I cupped my hands over your ears, the way rapture lived and loved, you kissing me in the shade of the palm trees up their on Notre Damen Ave. I know the curve of the Earth wrapped in the shades of the skin on your body. I live every day for the chance that I will meet you again.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
i went to a witch doctor who uses natural ways of healing
and by witch doctor i mean chiropractor, but the term sounds better for the situation i am about to describe
he asked me questions while i held out my arm
and if my arm fell easily to my side by the pressure he was applying, it meant no
so he asked if i had a heart wall
and my arm fell easily, like the way i fell for you
telling him no
(it was something i already knew but had hoped i suffered from because wouldn't it make life simpler to blame my infirmities on something so emotional and beautiful and dysfunctional we would have constructed together)
he told me my body had nested emotions in other places so as to keep my heart open and vulnerable
one of the places was my left arm
and i didn't realize until tonight that when we first held hands
and your heart was racing so fast i could feel it in my palm
it was my left hand
and
well
that is significant
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:06 AM UTC
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
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
1. Kissing is not boring.
Something I had never known.
2. ***** are just ***** but you like mine because they're mine.
3. You are a camel.
You drink water in large and spread-out doses
Just like you drink in my affection
Stocking up on love because you're not sure when you'll get your next fix.
4. I'm happy to give and give so that you never forget how it feels.
5. You can never be too close to someone.
Eyes flitting back and forth
Fingers tracing
Bodies crushing in a stedfast attempt to defy the laws of physics
And melt into one.
6. Sing-alongs do not have to be on-key to be entertaining.
7. Kissing is not boring.
Something I had never known.
Never understood how one person could
Spend hours with another's lips.
8. You called me a *****
And
I might be good at something I'd never done before.
9. Secrets can be magical and torturous.
10. Hand-holding can become an addiction
And "too comfortable" an understatement.
11. Love is, in fact, blind to distance.
Terminals and metal detectors
Are water off Love's wings
And
Baggage claim can be an utterly thrilling place.
12. You don't know what loneliness is until someone leaves you
Exposed
In the middle of a bed made for two
For a bathroom break.
13. Kissing is not boring.
Something I had never known.
Never understood how one person could
Spend hours with another's lips
Tongue-tied in the dim light,
Until I had it all to myself;
Until you were there to prove it to me.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
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.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
as we sat there i traced my thumb along your skin
trying to dig into the constellations with just a trace of my finger
wondering if maybe you understood why
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
hand holding
is such a
beautiful thing,
two different
hands intertwined
to make one.
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
Gripping. Your hands,
slicked with sweat. But I had
to hold it (hold it) tighter.
Heights aren't scary.
but
I've dropped your
porcelain
skin one time too many.
Left me wary.
No more scars for us.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
those slender fingers ache
with frost touched tips
when hands join not
and severance of limb
not of your own body
comes away like snow
falling from the sky
so naturally but so coldly
Oct 5, 2020
Oct 5, 2020 at 12:49 AM UTC
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.
I’ll readjust as needed.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
You were never really interested in the real me,
Perhaps you were enamored with the idea of who I could be.
“Could she be a dancer, a painter, or a combination of both?
Perhaps I can still get to her through her season of growth.
To prove it to her, I’ll swear myself under oath.”
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 6:29 PM UTC
Some of you
Don’t know how much you mean to
Me–
I just can’t see
A way
To say
“Just standing next to you makes my day”
Or perhaps “That made me feel so
Much better” because I know
It would just feel weird.
For how long has our society feared
Expressions
Of affection?
Too much obviously feels wrong
But when you’ve been here for so long,
I don’t know how to not overdo
My gratitude towards you.
Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 8:28 AM UTC
I never meant to hold your hand
not like that, not for long.
But you held on far too tightly,
fingers locked like chains, clutching as if letting go would mean losing yourself.
And I tried to pull away, quietly, gently at first.
But the more I resisted, the tighter you grasped-until your love became a tourniquet.
Your grip cut through my flesh,
burst blood vessels deep beneath skin,
left bruises no one else could see,
pain I couldn't name out loud.
Still, I stayed.
Still, I let it happen.
Maybe I thought you'd loosen.
Maybe I feared the tearing more than the hold.
And then, suddenly, you let go.
Just like that.
Just absence where your hand used to be.
Now, my hands are swollen,
aching with the memory of pressure.
I can't hold anything else
not love, not comfort, not trust.
Everything slips through these trembling fingers that once held too much for too long.
And though you're gone,
your grip still lingers in the way I flinch when someone reaches for me.
Jun 8, 2025
Jun 8, 2025 at 5:54 AM UTC
I think I knew it all along,
My hands were built for breaking, not for song
I tried to hold you soft and true,
But clumsy hearts don’t hold like steady glue
And I think I knew it from the start,
A storm can’t love the stillness of the chart
And so I loosed the knot I tied,
And watched you drift along the evening tide
You were the lighthouse far from reach,
A soul I touched but could not teach
A love I bore but never wore,
A knock I left outside your door
I kept my claws behind the veil,
Afraid they’d carve more grief than tale
You’ll never see the war I fought,
To stay away though near I sought
They’d call me cruel, they’d say I fled,
They’d ask what thoughts ran through my head
Do you recall my quiet hands?
And wonder why they missed demands?
Why they refused to dry your eyes?
Or failed to chase your fading skies?
Why they stood idle at the shore,
And never dared to pull you more?
The truth is this, I feared to bruise
To grip too hard, and still to lose
So I became the ghost you met,
A love you’ll mourn, but not regret
Jun 8, 2025
Jun 8, 2025 at 6:25 AM UTC