A tear leaks out, I quickly wipe it away. My heart crumbles into a thousand pieces. I grasp for a thread and needle - a safety pin - something to keep my heart in one piece. The news of you holding her hand tears me to pieces. I can't look at you. Your hand slides towards mine - the beauty of you envelops me - comforting and strong. No words spoken - just your hand on mine - time passes into time - 10 minute call.
Your hand speaks words of love - words of trust - words of sorry - words of seduction - words of safety - words of lust. Your hand in mine is better than any words that pass your lips. Small delicate hands - gentle enough to hold my fragile heart, to ease their way into my wounded soul. Hands that have seen so much, wrap around mine, like an umbrella in the rain.
My lonely fingers close around themselves empty and cold, aching to feel the warmth of you inside of me. If only you knew how your hand was created for mine. If only I hadn't been so careless thinking it was the start of forever your hand in mine. If only I had savored it longer- if only you'd let it be my hand in yours. I have absently traced your fingers with mine a hundred times - trying to memorize them- trying to forget them - trying to keep them closer.
My hands tap my jean covered legs as yours put the car in gear. My fingers do the dance of eager anticipation - forgetting for a moment that they are no longer for me - those sly sexy hands - that told me stories of you - wordless stories - all through the beauty of your touch. I want to reach over and hold them and let them remember me....you know me...we've spoken before...your hand in mine.My Story: Holding Hands