maybe the lines said so.

>> 27.10.10

these hands.
they can write a thousand words of infidelity
and pain in the cleanest of ashen paper
they can blot every wall with fury
and beyond the pale abhorrence
because these hands
they are mine.

and these very same hands
they can score through each letter in a jiffy
and daub blissful colors in neon hue
yes, they can forget, exonerate the worst.

yet the palms can constantly wound without one remnant
and let you bleed until you lay down your arms on me
but they won’t.

for these hands
they are no longer mine
they are yours already.

take them.
say yes.

*written months months ago in a scratch paper and mongol pencil. hear me, hear me when i'm not talking.


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