I Remember Your Hands



Because they were rough, and calloused

The worn fingers that laced with mine matched the temperament of their owner

The hands of a hard man


Because they had the capacity to gently rub the stress from my shoulders,

Those same hands could become hard and unyielding as they roamed my body

I apologetically pulled those hands away, but they returned                                                    


Because they punched walls and people,

Thick knuckles overlaid with scars

Your hands and heart fed off the pain of others


Because they opened some doors,

And pushed me against other doors

But I knew that you loved me


Because they were tender as they wiped the tears off my cheeks,

Soft as they cupped my face so you could raise my eyes to yours

Secretly admiring your handiwork


Because once they tightly gripped your own hair as emotion overwhelmed you,

Refusing to acknowledge the tears on your own cheeks

I was going to leave


Because they offered gifts and love letters

Hands that you nervously wrung as you lied to me

I swallowed my suspicions and put my hand back in yours


Because they continuously reached out to take,

Fingers digging in hard, cold, selfish

I was broken, ashamed, tired


Because your hands were not handcuffs

They tried to stop me

But I ran


Because, no longer in your hands,

I am free

I have blossomed


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