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
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