Unscarred Hands

Your Unwritten Story

Unscarred Hands

I study your hands,

Intertwined with mine.

Missing are the scars

Caused from a wounded life.

The callouses

From hours of dedication.

They’re perfect.

At least in every

Sense of the word.

No scars,

No callouses.

No story.

There’s no hardship

To be founds on your hands.

Your hands have not

Created or destroyed

Anything in this

Chaotic world.

They have no

Clay or paint

Tracing the maps

Found on your palms.

No veins or knuckles

Trying to bulge through.

Always fighting

To be stronger.

No wrinkles orcracks

Caused by doing

the kind of jobs needed

Just to get by.

So yes,

Your hands are

Perfect.

Just not perfect for mine.

sad poetry
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