| such strong hands
from my father, for my life
hold and tighten
feel them breathe
save my sanity, nothing
without my hands.
palm finger length up
and over
used to be ruthless, wished
to be ruthless
never him, always me
i stare, and stare, i listen
and all i see is him
such strong hands
so bold
so stout
my hands, my hands
without my father, i would
have no hands
|
| |
| sometimes i worry that my age turns too old
my smile too large
my cup too full
however, i remember.
i remember that you're
too much of nothing
to even be worth remembering.
|
| |
| i'm fully aware that people are disappointing
i am not here to judge you
or make presumptions
but you bet for a million that i will anyway
you are snide
cruel
insecure
selfish
infuriating
and everything else that i cannot think of
it's too bad that you're pretty close to me
|
| |
| i ache and ache
my arms are limber and smooth
tired and frantically paused
beating and treading the water
that carries me down and down farther
[my stomach that drops
to the penny on the floor
is not dropping for your sake
my stomach is turning at only the
thought of your smile and hands]
I am young now.
But I remember when I was younger.
And I would talk to you like I thought I knew you.
I would speak to you like a brother and a friend.
The real life of it all is that your life and mine never touched.
It was a completely different life of mine.
I felt together and safe, not confined or put together in shambles.
It's that talking that I still miss, I won't lie.
But your life and mine cannot touch.
|
| |
| I'm not completely sure if it's worth having this xanga, but there are so many memories on this site. Blarg. History.
|
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