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Hands

I miss the contrast
of your warm hands
clasped around
my cold ones,
Iike the warmth of the sun
on a winter's day,

How my sorrows would ebb away
with your soothing fingertips,
as you traced every
nook and cranny
of my body,

I miss your callused hands
gently caressing my skin,
cupping my cheeks,
so painfully tender—
the softest touch
I've ever known,

I miss how your fingers
would enfold
between my own,
like we were meant
to never let go.

~L.Y

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