Hands

Hands

I can still remember your hands

So well-tended and pristine

Painting the world with patterns and

Colors I have never seen

And still imprisoned in my mind

Every detail, fair and flawed

And hopes of touches cruel or kind

By fantasy or façade

And handcuffed in famished quicksand

Sits my wish to set you free

I can still remember your hands…

Although they never touched me

 © Jerod Scott

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