Hands

Ok, I see line breaks but when I publish they disappear

these hands will never be as soft as hers
these hands are scarred and stained and hard
hands of a worker, hands of a fixer a mender
these are hands that have never been pampered
how can these hands ever compare to her hands
how can they feel right when you've felt hers
these hands that have dealt many a poker card
how can these hands make it a calm surrender
these are my hands, full of calluses so hard
these are my hands, I lost count of my scars
How can a man ever look at my hands this way
and see a woman, a delicate princess to love
I know I can't, I'll never see the princess
These are hands that have worked hard
these hands have swung hammers and axes
these hands have fixed so many things on cars
these are my hands, beaten like old leather gloves
these are my hands, the ones no one will hold
the ones that have drilled holes and broken down walls
I know they don't feel like her hands at all
I know they are beat up like yours are
But can you hold them and look in my eyes
can you ever take my hand and love me

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

smart, stream of consciousness writing here. I used to have pretty hands....now I tend to hide them....peace.