Your Eyes, My Hands

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And it begins again













racing,
changing,
tapping your knuckles on my window
regaining composure
yet lacking structure.
Your strong heartbeat,
my warm hands,
our quiet goodbyes.
All tentative
the courage leaking from the cracks.
Our smiles,
knotted fingers.
Twisting,
feeling,
seeing
one another
in this bright florescent
that’s pouring down upon our
fresh minds.
Believing
my words,
your arms.
As you walk away,
I seem to stay
drifting
in the thought that
inspiration
is like that bright electricity
coursing through my veins,
your eyes,
sparkling
with my reflection within.



And it begins again
crying,
singing
out melodies
heard yet
misunderstood
by all but me
you
and our strong hands
circling
that light that’s climbing
from within the crevices
of loss
confusion.
Renewing
possessing
all that power that
is like a feather
on the wind,
free of care
and I look in to those eyes
just
one
more time.
They remind me
that
hope remains,
stillness gains
my movement in the silence.
As you slide closer,
and I sigh,
it’s all fine.
And it begins again.





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