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My Hands Are Like Houses
My hands are like houses
Where cheeks welcome me
But my walls are dark molded
Painted with rot and red
My hands are like mountains
Your neck is the valley
A divine cross in your eyes
Beg against the landslides
My hands are like wind currents
Trying to make oceans bruise
But a hand offed at the wrist
Can be only useless
My hands are like fire
No mercy to what I touch
My hands will never hold smooth
In the way my tongue soothes
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Favorite Quote:
"All that is gold does not glitter/Not all those who wander are lost/The old that is strong does not wither/Deep roots are not reached by the frost"