my hands,
veined and used, rippled by years
hard now,
rough and abused, laden with time
these hands know so much
they feel so deeply
and have passion in all they do
i love them on their own
they stop me sinking
and rejoice in touching you
crooked, scarred
they embrace you with the care of a mother
calloused, wrinkled
they long for your skin beneath them
it has been far too long
since i have known pain enough to cry
my hands are not used
to the taste of my own tears
for too long they have
wiped away others sorrows caused by me
they are far more
sensitive than the rest of my body
and i have caused
so much hurt to the ones that i love
my hands were the
only way to help redeem my indiscretions
so all the times your face is in my palms
your back under my nails
your breasts beneath finger tips
know that in the end,
these small appendages are not just there
for touching, but are actually
extensions of my heart
and used to convey my joy
at having your company.
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Spell check when you get a chance. You have a your that is missing an r I believe. I don't understand why you didn't respond here before about the last post but chose email.
ReplyDeleteI do have creativity inside of me. But my perfectionistic ways prevent a lot of my creative flow. I start to paint and I hate it and push it aside. I start to write but I get frustrated with my lack of the right word or not having enough passion. I do think that in my tumblr post last night that some of my creativity was there when I spoke about what it really felt like to lose Zach (like I had lost my breath, etc). Some of when I allow myself to get down past my surface emotions and feel I can be creative. But you say my eating disorder holds me back and it's true in this case. Accessing those emotions is something anorexia allowed me to deny and it is something that even in recovery lingers. Severe true emotions are something I rarely feel. If I get a chance to I am going to finally put together my art project with my memorabilia from laureate. But to do so will require me to reach into some truly dark and deep places that I very seriously fear. You don't know what the dark me is like. I've never shown her to you. I fear her coming to surface. I think I'm inspired now. I think I'm going to write about my darkness as a person. Not a poem. Just creative writing. Thanks I guess. It'll be in my lawsofillusion tumblr when I finish. Also. Read my life with Ed story finally!
i didnt repsond here because this blog is a different email address that is attached to my primary and i didnt feel like logging out and back in to respond.
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