Second Skin


And to this day

I will admit that all I ever wanted was to hold your hand

For the thought of my fingers playing in your palm

Sent shivers everywhere

Postage stamps weren’t cheap

And I’m still paying the price

Pennies, nickels and dimes

Your large hands in mine made sense

But I will remain forever in debt

Until you allow me to play fortune teller

Tracing your lifelines

Always trying to find a way to connect them back to mine

I guess it was never in the stars

But I

Continued shooting

Hanging on every word

If’s, and’s, but’s and well’s

I kept wishing

That every time your left hand would dangle

My right would naturally become entangled

And your grip

Would diagnose me with full



I dreamed of being a writer

But I could live without it

As long as the spaces between my fingers remain filled

Never on E

I’d be happy


The comfort of never again having to buy mittens

Winter became non-existent

Sunny days were abolished because having to shield our eyes

Would result in the sticky residue collected over months

Being exposed to the air

And we feared that the sweetness would attract the bumblebees

Who’ve been starving to taste some




Because we are the Fresh Market

Of hand holders

Not advocates of hand held devices

But true diplomats of PDA

Never have I ever wanted anything more

Than my clammy hands to make chowder with yours

I was always

A fan of seafood

But only you knew how much I preferred dessert

We stayed up late

And our fingertips became nomads

But whenever asked

There was no doubt that they knew exactly where home was

Make me your secondary address

I’m more than happy to be your emergency contact

Because these hands can certainly do a hell of a lot more than heal

They can tell deliciously illicit stories

But only when your body is the canvas

They can count the amount of our shared heavy breaths

But they can never seem to lift them

There will be no need to calibrate

For I will learn that my fingerprints have been imprinted in your DNA

A long ways before they were ever in mine

And I have nothing but full intentions

In making sure that your hands

Find their way back home

I’m calling in an amber alert

Because babe they’ve never been more lost

And I know I’m going to hate the wait

But I’m gonna see you on that milk carton every morning

And I will eat my breakfast slowly


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