I remember looking at my own hands
daydreaming about what yours looked like.
I remember meeting you for the first time
and only being able to look down, at your hands.
I remember romanticizing those hands of yours, thinking of all of the things I wanted them to do.
I wanted them to hold mine.
I wanted them to caress my face and my body.
I wanted them to hold me up when I was falling, and squeeze me until I was back together.
I remember the day I finally got to touch your hands and hold them in mine.
I remember how beautiful and soft they were
and how lucky I could've swore I was just to be holding them.
As your presence has faded
the memory of your hands will always remain
engraved into my brain
The only place you had failed to touch
with those hands.