A place to call but never a home to stay. Fumbling on my steps and words like a drunken mistake. Hold me just below the wrist, I cut off all the threads keeping me along.
Big hands; a clove of protection. Deep lines yet soft texture. Hold me like encompassing a moving wave just to slip through gracefully. Bad taste and slippery tongues. The morning was brushed off with words of caress.
Hold me below the wrist, the world is still a large anomaly. The roughness seeps through the back of the palm, pouring into your enclosed hands. The ever cursed lines and valleys, everything fits like a comfortable costume of life.
Hold me below the wrist, that's where I hide my stars. --------------