Sunday, 15 November 2015

Hands, and some other hands

I just stood there,
looking at their hands,
Clutched fists, and curled arms,
hands looking for some other hands,
hands holding on to the window,
hands loosening the grips
hands shouting out for help
eyes closed,  fingers entangled,
and hands still searching for the lost ones,
hands outstretched to embrace and love,
hands out in the air to join some other hands,
shoulders trying to absorb the sorrows,
and hands on the forehead reassuring that it’ll soon be alright,
hands held at the moment,
hands that can no longer be held,
because some hands just ruined some other hands

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