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A Hand Not Held
By Katherine Givens
QuailBellMagazine.com *Editor's Note: This poem was originally published in The Screech Owl.
Empty.
I curl my fingers, Hoping to feel the warmth Of another’s flesh, But I clutch at nothingness. Empty. I glance down at my fist, Thinking perhaps I missed, But I realize I am alone. No one stands beside me. No one waits for my touch. No one belongs to me. Empty. But beyond the stage, Beyond the realm of myself, I see outsiders with expect faces. All glance in to witness The girl with a sense of self, of purpose, But none stay long enough to give. Empty. I lift up my hand, Reach for someone to hold, But all sidestep my clasp. Empty. I show myself my palm, I study the lattice of etches and creases, The calluses born of hard-work, The scar slashed across my thumb. Complex, resolute, pained. But no one to adore These perfections and imperfections I am marked by. Empty. I lift my hand, not held by another, And caress my own cheek. I offer my own comfort, Take myself for who I am, For I refuse to change for anyone Not willing to prize my all. Alone, But waiting for someone To fill the emptiness With what I deserve. Acceptance. #Unreal #Poetry #Love #SelfWorth #Value #Relationships #Solitude Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. CommentsComments are closed.
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