Hands

Three words that seem to drip off the ends of her sentences.
Liquid and running dripping like honey;
Her eyes locked into mine.
And sometimes, just sometimes, you meet people y'know;
People that just let you know the ways of the world.
Through kindness, and sometimes pain, but mostly by what you choose.
She clings to me, not dragging.
Just telling life in little anecdotes.
Struggling for verbs and adjectives,
Struggling for breath.
I don't know what to say, so I just breathe it in,
The love she chooses to give…
I'm not a believer of fate,
And Jesus never seemed to be on my side.
But sometimes man, just sometimes, I feel like I have a purpose.
And the air is cold, and our hands are so warm.
So I cling to her, holding, not dragging.
Just telling life in little anecdotes,
Struggling for verbs and adjectives…