These Hands Hold No Tears

These hands hold no tears,
Just a mess of simple dreams,
Elastic trust and warmth,
A small, lost world
Of broken skin and lines.
They hold no promises,
No miracles or schemes,
They can only seize so much
Until things start to slide,
Until decisions once made
Come back to tease,
Shooting up these arms
Towards this shaky mind.
There is nothing here
To feast on,
No warning sign or pledge,
No place to hide forever
Or find yourself reborn.
There is nothing here
To save me
But still I wish you’d try,
No perfect words to hang on
But still I wish you might.
These hands they hold no tears
These hands are high and dry,
So where will all the water flow
When someone starts to cry?

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