AW (March,27,1994 / )

These Hands

I see myself reflected, in shattered mirror glass.
Eyes like sky staring back.
I’ll walk off the edge holding hands with darkness.
Yes we’ll walk hand in hand right off the edge.
Set a course straight down.
These hands held on.
Held so hard, broke life in their fingers.
These hands tried so hard not to let go.
Now these hands just want to let go.
And now we’re walking right off the edge.
These hands held a light, a desire to reach into the bleeding sunset and hold
Something real, something alive.
Now I’m walking right off the edge.
These hands held you tight…now their letting go.

© Antoinette Winter

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