high six

super unfinished and not edited but its cool. oh and just to let you know i have six fingers on my right hand and only my right hand weirrrrrrrrd i know.

too often i stare at my hands
wondering
contemplating and differentiating
between what my hands tend to do
and what they intend to do
because there is a difference.
are they bound to a life
of meager work
that match their feminine stature?
or are they mean for that gritty shit
that's reflected from the scars and
grease that cover them.
Or perhaps does their misshapen symetry
have a particular use that has not been revealed to me?
Is their unique shape that missing
puzzle piece that makes my
hand fit yours in such a perfect manner
that i makes it hard to let you go?
I'd like my hands to have that unique ability
to change whatever it was I touched
from it's original form,
to something better.
I want them to leave imprints and impressions
so deep in whatever i touch
that they make caves in people's souls,
so that my song may resonate and
resound in them like and echo
that never fades.
my hands yearn for that touch so electric,
that they'd go numb in the instance
that we meet.
That kind of touch that sends a shock to
your heart and makes it skip a beat
or two
or three.
Thay want to be free
to explore the curves around that girl's face
and find their warmth entangled with her hair,
and maybe lose feeling from a bite on their
wrist.
As clumsy and faulty as my hands can be
they tend to find their confidence
during certain times.
Like when they are wrapped around a pen
dancing across pages
or when they are grasping tight
to a steering wheel.
or better yet
when they are shaky and inconfident
they find their strength when
they are clasped around yours
as if in the mids of their torrential trembling
they find a calm in the storm
when you happen to be around.