keep your hands where I can see them
I'm screaming to whomever is up above.
Let me pull the strings of my heart just a little bit further, let me kiss his lips and point to the light in his chest he never knew existed just one more time.
His body is a long bristled vine which my soft baby hands tangle in -
we fit so well.
Let me burn one more time the tips of my fingers on the flame that is his heart. This had an edge of pain to it from the start.
No matter how many times i constructed stain glass windows out of the pieces of his heart did he once utter a whisper of gratitude.
Still, my tired blistered feet trudge down the path that is his spine, beseeching it to unwind.
Fall loose in my fingers and let me fix the aches that soiled him everyday.
I hang my head in my hands, knowing the beauty and light I had found sheds down my hands like the tears from my eyes and burns every open gash on the way down. Even despite my efforts to fix a breaking time lapse even as I felt myself fall apart with his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his doubt in love.
These hands, you've put through so much. Now I reach them, clasped together in the sky forming my own personal steeple an i'm crying for chances i'm not even sure i deserve.
But you'll never hear a single word;
you will never feel yourself drowning in your tears and choking on your throat.
No, curling up in bed -
I bring my knees up close to my aching head and I whisper, I send pleas onto my drenched pillow as if it was the Jordan River and I pray for you to bless them.
Give me one more chance not to make a mess of them.
Let the final cut on these shaking hands be the one that causes me to pull them away completely, hug them to my chest and bleed through my skin to absorb into my dried up heart.
My hands, these hands, praying with scars.