Shy and nervous

he was,

not knowing

if we were

of like mind,

so,

I took his hand in mine;

warm hands

tightly gripped,

we neither spoke

nor kissed

merely existed

together

in a perfect moment

while butterflies

wreaked havoc

in my belly

my heart beating

in my ears

my breath caught

in my throat

hands trembling

as we walked

towards the beginning

of us.

A whisper touch..

Not sinister

Or weird.

But the first time,

I take your hand in mine..

You're dead.

Cold but soft..

Or is it warm,

The fingers, now blue.

I've never seen you,

I just feel you.

As I hold your hand under the sky.

You trusted someone?

Or did he lie?

The darkness under your lashes..

I fail to find

The reason

Why you died.

Pale face and

Still frame

A stationary wind..

I've never seen you

I just feel you.

The time when death grinned..

The metal

Strikes the mud.

Your new home.

Your eyes will rest

In silence

.. Till unknown.

The willow weeps

For the

Souls of the neglected.

I've never seen you,

I just feel you.

As I let go of your hand.. Verdict accepted.

tv is on

been dating a few weeks

old fashioned

he's been so sweet

almost too polite

i've never felt this

my heart pounds

find the courage

quickly lose it

whip my arm back

slide fingers between his

finally did it

"was that smooth?"

"very smooth" he laughs

deep relief

he grazes my hand

with his thumb

back and forth

so much comfort

such a small movement

beginning of forever

Sweat seeped in between the cracks of my hands and we hadn't even touched. Being so close caused such anxiety within me. Will he or won't he? Nerves grew higher and higher as every moment passed by. We were running out of time. Then, suddenly, I feel the slightest tingles on the tips of my fingers that quickly escalated to electric currents running through my veins. He reached for my hand and my heart jolted. He grabbed my hand so quickly, it startled me. I looked up into his eyes and he smiled back. We exchanged nervous giggles as the sweat built up in between our hands. It felt as if for that moment, I was able to hold my entire world in the palm of my hands.

it's the point of contact

that cracks the ice over

my spine.

the tickling caress of fingers

as they trace the scars of motion

pooled in my palms.

those veins wrapped around your

bones, they're striking out of the skin,

carving hills and valleys from your wrist.

i love the flex of muscles between

your bird-like bones. the freedom

i found in your hesitant touch.

it should be a sin to feel so

complete. maybe it is a sin.

i've never really paid attention.

no, you've stolen my attention.

encompassed it with every motion.

i've seen your hands dance over my skin.

you read my future in these palms,

traced the life lines deliberately -

like you knew you'd be at the path's end.

Our hearts pound as one,

No matter what I do,

I cannot console him.

Show night has begun.

We circle round,

And all join hands.

He grabbed my hand

My eyes drop to the ground.

His thumb rubs the back of my hand,

Sweat from nerves covers both of us.

We are nervous for two reasons,

A liking and show night has begun.

fingers touched.

yours were soft-spoken, gentle and calm.

mine was too spoken, fiery and warm.

i didn’t like your hands.

i didn’t think they would look good holding mine.

palms collided,

yours were deep, curved, and wise.

mine was damp, bent, and guessing.

i didn’t like your hands.

i thought they would get too wet holding mine.

hands clasped,

yours were a snug fit.

held mine like you knew it.

mine was damp.

held yours like i’ve never tried it.

yours were sure, it was secure.

held me like you meant it.

mine was tight, it felt right.

held you like how i wanted.

i didn’t like my hands.

i thought they were too small to hold yours.

too sweaty to be held,

too rough to be kissed,

too much of ‘me’ for you.

i didn’t like my hands

but you held them anyway.

We smile at each other

Our eyes interlock

Won't look away.

Can't look away.

The world stops turning

Time stops

His hand reaches for mine

I don't hesitate to weave mine into his

A perfect fit

Cinderellas shoe is no match

We are connected

Our hearts beat in sync

Heat spreads around my cheeks

His hands still in mine

Offering all the love

In his sweaty palm

There’s two answers for this, I think.

When I’m young, really young, my sister takes a picture:

my brother, six years old and grinning.

I’m standng on his feet, unsteady and tiny,

with dual vice-grips on my brother’s hands.

It’s the first time I hold someone’s hand on purpose, I think.

Then, when I’m eleven:

there’s a boy, who thinks i’m pretty cool.

He holds my hand on some school hike,

tenative and hopeful,

and helps me scramble up a big rock we see.

It’s sweet, and it’s almost enough.