Holding on too tight can bruise one’s palms
But my palms were always open for you
How are my hands the only part of this that ended up unscathed?
My spirit struggling to survive
But my palms- the palms that held your face, fingers that traced the lines in your hands, the ones that pulled your hair as you were screaming for me-
It should be good that I didn’t hold on too tightly.
But what am I supposed to do with unscathed palms? When the rest of me has become a puddle beneath your feet?
What good are palms with no heart or soul attached?
Can these hands help rebuild something?
I could stack and build all day long
But that home would have no hearth.
Cold and lifeless piles of stone.
They’d keep you dry from the rain
What good are these unscathed palms?
Losing everything else- maybe I should have held on.
My hands innocently existing as water outside of a burning building
Maybe I should have held on
Creating bruised palms from holding on too tight
What’s one more bruise or beating these days?
Are these open palms just a reminder that I’ve given up?
Should you fight for those you love?
Would you have fought for me?