My hands, they hold my body
Mold my skin like clay
There’s no one else to hold me
My hands say it’s okay
If these fingers are my mountains
Then my tears create the sea
But my hands have been the pitchers
That keep them safe for me
Dirt encrusted nail beds
Secrets between each vein
My hands hold all my heartache
My makeshift lidocaine
Ten fingers clot the bleeding
Two elbows squeezing tight
One cut against a thousand
My hands say we’re alright
Knuckles slot my rib cage
Knees against my chest
My soul in mottled digits
Sanity undressed