Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Hands are unbearably beautiful, they hold on to things they let things go.
What should i do with these hands if they can’t hold you?
Give me your hands
My soul will sleep inside of them
Inside of them my soul will sleep for eternity
Her hand in mine and in my chest a garden.
But i still don’t know how to hold your hand without reading the ugliness of my own, but i can’t contain my soul from enveloping yours!
I clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos.
I don’t know what to do without you, i don’t know where to put my hands.
I'd cut my hands on a paring knife if it meant he'd be happy and full of sliced persimmons. I'd happily bleed for him and wouldn't even care, so long as he's okay.