Hands

Smooth hands. Pressed together. Pushing against each other. Wrapped around small hands. Small hands wrapped around big hands. Your big hands wrapped around my small hands. Yours smooth, mine rough. Yours talented, musical, agile. Mine thin, and frail. But yet they fit together so perfectly. As if the spaces between my fingers were made to be filled with yours. And now we walk, hand in hand, past everything that watches us. Watching. Waiting. Wanting. Wanting to tear us apart. Waiting to see us stumble and fall. Watching us as we walk past, clear and free.

Rough hands. Pressed together. Pushing against one another. Wrapped around big hands. Big hands wrapped around small hands. My small hands wrapped around your big hands. Mine rough, yours smooth. Yours are strong, mine weak, but together we hold the world.