my poem:)

“Holding broken hands” 

Hands,

They touch

They feel

They hold,

Hands love

Hands hate

Hands choose,

Mine choose to hold yours,

Knowing it wouldn't last forever

They squeezed,

As to be able to reach into your secrets and thoughts

To become you,

Hands intertwined,

While my feelings are tangled with the thought of you leaving again,

As your hand loosens

I know,

I know you're leaving again

And I know it will be the last time

My hands choose you,

I don't want to hold hands again.