Hands

My hand, it fits in yours like a pebble, Never have I felt so fragile, and yet so supported, Your hands always feel like ice, and mine always fire, I worry I will melt you away, this fire in my hands, Every time I touch your face, I fear I fear that you will melt, and this feeling The feeling of my hand in yours, will melt away too I worry every touch will be the last one, And you too will see that my fire is too hot, I have been burning too long, and I can no longer go out, Your eyes are warm, staring into the only cold thing about me, I wonder if you can see me there, standing behind the ice, I worry that your cold hand will melt beneath mine, And once again I will burn, growing too hot Yet trapped beneath ice I cannot burn through