Your Hands
To feel alone,
Is to feel alive.
Or so I’ve told myself
Over and over
Every night as I curl into the warmth of my blanket,
And let the comfort soak through my skin.
To feel alone
Is to be,
Be something you
Don’t
Want to be,
To know with every passing moment
Your heart isn’t missed,
Your fingers aren’t intertwined,
Your mind isn’t at rest.
I hold my twin flame high,
A cry for help
Among the already ignited,
Summer trees.
My voice an echo,
Too distant to be reached,
I wonder if they care enough
To know.
I’ve been held hostage for far too long,
These four walls whisper to one another,
As I stare into the
abyss.
Let me hold myself
One last time
Under these covers
Just once more.
So they know I wasn’t alone,
When they come to
Take me
Away.
Photo: Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com
