Her Hands
They reminded me of a time
when things seemed better.
Or rather, a time
where things seemed easier.
Each fine line and crevice,
revealed a new beginning
and in some cases,
signaled an unprecedented ending.
They reminded me of youth
that once beheld them.
Or rather, youth
that they once beheld themselves.
Each soft wrinkle,
telling a story of its triumph
and in some cases,
a tale of their downfall.
Her hands
they reminded me,
not so much of her anymore
but now, of me.
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About the Creator
Isabella Betkowski
24. No idea who I am. Just writing my way through it.
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