My Old Hands & Paper-Thin Heart. {Poem}

My hands,

They’ve looked old ever since my youth

Tiny nail beds, my half moons—

This is the only childlike part of me

The rest shows my seniority

Wrinkled with spots and veins

My hands and my heart,

They are the same.

 

My heart is ancient too,

Eroded by the pain

That always gets through

Now, it’s paper-thin

Life hurts,

I feel the softest wind

As it flutters the lining

I ache in pain, I plead

To understand, why…

Why you aren’t by my side?

I remember my hand holding yours,

They look the same as that day

We let go,

Together, then torn

Floating in opposite directions

Away, away, away

Until I disappeared into this,

This life, without you beside me

My face I don’t recognize, but my hands,

He didn’t change

Leaving my heart broken

As part of his plan

 

I was never a child

Born, old and worn

Nothing seemed foreign

Which made it boring

I never understood cartoons

I used my old hands to hide from the idiocy,

Cause none of it ever made sense to me.

 

See, children have soft, supple, plump hearts

Who don’t know how to hurt or where to start.

They run in circles searching for rainbow’s edge

Or splash in puddles and act like a kid

Not me, I never did.

 

Instead, I played with emotions like dolls

Anger meet sadness, let’s go play,

Oh and there’s happiness, by the way

Let’s play with her for a while

Until the darkness steals our smile

How can I focus on counting stars when that

Little tear threatens my paper-thin heart?

 

A heart made of transparency,

The pulsing consequence of sensitivity

That rips even more,

When I realize

I’m missing the hand that’s yours.

 

This scavenger hunt is drawing to a close,

I’m up to my last clue

Ready to give up

Not on life, but on you

That’s ok, 

My old hands are full these days

With other tiny old hands and little paper-thin hearts.

You would like them cause

They are just like me,

Here to keep me company.

 

I’ve felt like I’ve been waiting

Since the day I arrived

Drumming my nails

Just wasting time

Hoping, quickly it goes by  

Until you come back

To take my old hand in yours

And then, my paper-thin heart will be restored.

 

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *