Sometimes I find more comfort in fictional characters than in real people.


Hands I Want to Draw

[I have a habit of typing a few verses on my phone when I’m commuting. I forgot all about this, thought I’d share it. ]


The strong desire is this–

to draw every inch of your hands

to capture the knobs and lines,

the calluses that make them yours.


And inside those ink drawn lines

i’d fill them with the fleshy tone

of your skin, with darker shades

in between each finger

until they come to life in paper.


So I may cut them out

and let perfectly drawn hands

intertwine with mine

in the absence of yours

in the absence of life.


Yet, i draw nothing for

in the dark, the emptiness

is thick like heavy

curtains over spent eyes.