My Hands

My hands were once smooth as silk

Tracing the lines that sketched the ties

That slipped in and out of our existence,

But over time the calluses of your words

And silence slowly formed the

Hills and valleys

That separated us

From what we once were.

Where once my touch was elegant

And tongue was eloquent

Formed dunes of sand and

Incomprehensible gibberish.

I reach out for your name,

But my lips refused to speak it

My heart refused to need it

And my hands emptied themselves

Of any kindness they had left. 

And though they’ve softened now

They’ll never trace your form again.

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