Darling, I want to crack you open

I want to touch your forehead and make everything alright again

Why won't you tell me what's wrong?

Why do you apologize for every breath you take?

Please let me in so I can cure your ails

Please let me share your burden. Can't you see I want to help?

I'm not sticking around to be nice or out of sympathy. I'm sticking by you because I need you, don't you know?

Why is it that you never see how truly amazing you are? All you seem to notice are phantom faults. Let me open your eyes to your brilliance.

You are my best friend. I want you to love yourself like I love you.

Let me help you.

Let me love you.

Let me cure you.

My hands.

Two small delicate hands grip my mother’s thumb.

The delight is shown on her face,

of how happy she is to see her little princess gripping her thumb,

already making a connection of love,

with hands.

My hands.

Two strengthening parts of my limbs dragging me around,

as I am down on all fours, crawling everywhere in the apartment.

Touching, feeling, grasping, everything around me,

with hands.

My hands.

Two extremities of me, now off the ground,

and gripping a pencil,

Writing, drawing, and putting pen to paper.

Block letters, Bubble letters, Cursive, so many fonts to write,

with hands.

My hands.

Two prehensiles at the end of my arm,

holding a bow and violin,

pressing down on piano keys,

and making hand gestures in dance class.

All,

with hands.

My hands.

Two body parts,

that can help me shape and change the world that surrounds me.

To leave my mark on this world,

…with hands.