Hold

We said we’d hold each other.
You hold me,
I hold you.

Sometimes you held me so tight
You pinched me.
Your palm lines etched themselves into my skin.
Sometimes I didn’t hold you tight enough
you slipped through my fingers

But then you let go
So I held on for both of us
But truth is, my hands are only big enough for one of us
I let go.

 
2
Kudos
 
2
Kudos

Now read this

Chapter 3

Janine 11:45pm. November 5, 1993. Kingston, Jamaica. Potholes in this country were a problem we didn’t talk about enough. All I can think about are potholes. Potholes were safe. Safer than thinking about how much I was bleeding. Mama... Continue →