Hands interlaced and-
Touches that manifest affection
or intimacy to someone special,
a friend maybe, whom-
you'd long to embrace
to cherish his grace
but, merely-
oftentimes, sometimes-
deep within, the feeling is ignored
by the mortal you've purely adored
these pale hands that grasped
the hearts which beats with mine
held them close, a tight intertwine
but, suddenly-
I have regret,
the passionate intersection
the burning collision
of these hands that held,
some strangers to my heart,
yet known to my eyes
which made me realize and woke me up
to this silent slumber, a deep sleep.
that I am merely someone,
a plain and delicate woman
which can be taken for granted
and existence of being unwanted
with a shadow so small, unseen
decorated with stupidity, somehow I've been
these wrecked hands of mine are hurt
somewhat, more painful to the heart
viewing the reality and-
knowing the agonizing fact
that special friends did the act
