Hands

He is five fingers... she is the other five
and they are pressed together like
panes of glass that don't mirror
emotion, only emptiness.

So they believe they are traveling
on the subway in New York City,
vividity racing across spectacles
that don't belong to them,
and they think seats will cushion
them together and lean them in
closer to acquirement-
though they've only visited once
when they were young, eighteen
years old, and knowing nothing
of love's complexions.

But he's all around her.
She used to be on the level
of his world.

Yet, she's hanging onto a globe
that shows another world,
another side-

and she realizes, he was never
the one to hold hands with,
only her helping hand...

-
Written 6/19/13 @ 8:30 pm