little things are big things

my brain bounces

on

off

and contemplates

the little things

your hand

mine

I wonder if I would feel something

deep down in this cursed heart of mine

or if it would be terror and nothing else

for the thing I fear is touch.

these hands weren’t made for holding

i know it

because of the disgust in your eyes

the surprise you try to hide

the shame behind my lies

does not disguise

my hand

yours

just too close

shocking

and unnatural