tagNon-Erotic PoetrySign Language

Sign Language


Stare at my hands and dare them to speak
the scars that blink as they move
tri-tone paint splattered callouses
mix with fresh cut skin

Fingers thick and clumsy
beaten and moulded
by heavy weights, hard work
and hours of hitting a heavy bag

they have punched brick
smashed plasterboard
one knuckle still in two
from an errant tooth
in a bar room brawl

the story they most want to tell
is the day they held you

and shaking wept
for fear they were too clumsy
to hold your fragility
a triumph as we cradled you
to our heart

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bytodski28© 8 comments/ 1084 views/ 1 favorites

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by Anonymous

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