Soft Hands

She was a miracle that came only when I needed her least, and when will I see you next turned into will I ever see you again. And usually, when a person plants a seed in another persons heart it tends to grow. And all we needed to do was ask what we could accept, not what we could change but our lives were about writing prescriptions for the soul. I lost myself and in extension I lost you as well and in return I could feel myself shifting, weakening my more fragile muscles like my heart. The devil and the angel on my shoulder told me to move on but in my soul there lived a god who told me to keep trying no matter the pain that trying had brought me, see, that is the fact of love and life, keep trying or die crying. Always prying open the doors of my inner peace to be shot at by some outside force with pretty eyes and soft hands, as if soft hands were something that could move mountains and shift seas. But as life moved on so did my needs. Rate this poem:(4.00 / 1 vote)


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"Soft Hands" STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 11 Dec. 2019. <>.

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