Hands

wanted to write something... this happenend

To have and to hold

That's how it goes

Isn't it always?

Even for a second

a moment

A day, A year

And forever's not a statement, 

but an unpopular opinion

And I remember the veins in your hands

All purple and blue

And a silver band

On your bedside table

If you weren't hers

I knew you weren't mine

But to have and to hold

For a second or two

Was much more than she ever got to do.

And you were kind of a dick.

So I'm not entirely sorry for her.

Even if that's kinda bitchy

Your hands never wiped a tear

But they clutched our throats

Held down our wrists

And I remember your hands so clearly

So imagine my surprise

When I found them once more on my hips

To have and to hold

You didn't remember my eyes, my lips,

My voice, my fingertips.

And the tan was still missing 

around your ring finger

You quoted yourself like a famous author

and you reached for me 

With hands wanton

So I took your hand 

And I cut off each finger

your veins all purple and blue

and let the red love bleed

When your eyes met mine you finally knew

To have and to hold

meant nothing to me now too.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i feel this may be something she would write to charles bukowski...

and i love the ending if that were true, then he would mean nothing to her now too...he was such an abusive drunk...should have had his fingers cut off...

j.

[Elwyn]

f**k me up, f**k me up
consistent imagery with the hands, creative concept that tells a story, great rhyme scheme, classic julia