there’s an innocence to holding hands.
that first brush of the tip of his fingers
against my palm.
the way they glide across it,
aiming for the gaps.
the way his fingers curl,
almost hesitantly,
as if i am delicate,
as if holding me too tightly
will break me.
because he knows,
between us,
holding hands will never be just
about hands touching.
so gently, he continues.
fingers clasping.
breath held.

so much for innocence
and the promise of more to come.

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That is How I Met Hope

after a resigned sigh,
she said “you are amazing.
you deserve the universe
and all good things in life.
but you have to realise
that sometimes, what you want
isn’t always what you need.”

and I looked at her.
really looked at her.
seeing the hollowness behind her eyes
for the first time since we’ve met.
my heart squeezed tight.
almost to the point of unbearable pain.
I wanted to ask her,
‘who hurt you so badly
that you started to believe
that you’re unworthy?’

but I don’t.
instead I say,
“i have all I need
in front of me right now.
do you trust me?”

she nods slightly.
what she’s not saying is
that she doesn’t trust herself.

so I assure her,
“leap. and I promise
i will not let you fall.
instead, i will teach you how to fly.”

i have never seen a flower
bloom before my eyes.
but in that moment,
if hope was a flower,
then by God,
does it bloom beautifully
behind her eyes
and her smile.