Losing My Hands

There’s something wrong with my hands these days.

They have a mind of their own, I swear.

They defy sense and decency.

They make me feel like I’m a wanton woman,

Driven by need.


I restrain them from unlocking the phone every five minutes.

Then from hovering over your name on the contact list,

Or tracing the outlines on the words in your texts,

Or tapping on your pictures, enlarging them,

And poring over every single pore on your face.

But they do. Every single time.


I keep them rammed deep in my pockets,

So they can’t find escape and entangle themselves,

In the lush curls of your hair,

Or drum playfully at the tips of your lips,

Or hook themselves possessively,

On the crook of your arm.

But they defy me, much to my chagrin.


I force them behind me in an iron clasp,

So they don’t fly out and grab you in a bear hug.

I don’t want to seem clingy but they do exactly that,

Cling to you like you’re a life raft,

Or a refuge for their jangled nerves.


And when you’re close, so close where, 

Your breath mingles with mine in the winter mist,

And we can see the goosebumps we raise,

On each other’s skins, I swear they go wild!

Then I lose them altogether.

They want all of you, every inch of you.


But the worst is when your fingers curl up with mine,

And we feel our pulses throb like one,

My hands, they aren’t mine anymore, 

Like my heart, like every bit of me,

But yours.

And suddenly, I don’t mind losing control anymore.

18555851_100676450514066_4494546682437471084_n.jpgCopyright ©2017 Pradita Kapahi.

All rights reserved.

Image Credits: Mental Alchemy on Tumblr

49 thoughts on “Losing My Hands

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