It Was Us.

I’ve held your hand for years.

It’s been so gentle.

You’ve been so gentle.

The hands that tied my hair,

For a little more than a decade,

Were the same hands

Who held my face.

Your hands were always gentle.

Tense, but gentle.

But the first time I held it—

All I noticed wasn’t only

The sense of safety

And endearment to me.

It was its roughness,

And that it was scarred.

Scarred and calloused.

And I wondered.

How were the same hands

That cared for me?

.

When I held it the first time,

There were no words.

Just comfortable silence.

I tried tracing your history

Through your scars alone.

Trying to get a hint-

A word-

A thought-

From you.

But you didn’t speak.

You only sat there

As if you waited for the stars

To answer you back.

You never said a word,

But by the look of your eyes,

From the clenching of your fists,

And how you seeked for the skies-

I knew you asked a god,

If the scars that laid at your hands,

Were signs of meaning, or approval

Or if they were only designs

Like tattoos and beauty marks.

And from then, I knew

You tolerated the roughness,

That you hated so much.

.

I was with you for months,

But I knew nothing.

You didn’t like talking

About yourself, didn’t you?

Was the world in your hands

Too heavy for you to carry?

Was the emotions you felt

Too heavy for you to handle?

You barely had an answer

When it comes to yourself.

No matter.

For now, I’ll hold your hands

Roughed, Calloused and Scarred

It didn’t matter.

As those same rough hands

Were the warmest ones I held.

.

You’ve barely spoken,

Tongue ties, lips sealed

But I can see the anger

That burns in your eyes

I can sense the resentment

I can sense the hatred

That runs deeper than your skin

That pierces deeper than your bones

But even I didn’t know

Who that anger was against

For now, I only had one choice-

To hold your hands,

To feel your clenching fists,

To kiss your bruised knuckles

Trying to tell you

That you’ll be okay.

That we’ll be okay.

.

You finally responded

With words

You stopped praying to heaven

You stopped cursing the gods

You stopped trusting the devil

And you only stared at me

With only a few words

That meant everything to me

That meant everything to you

That meant everything to us

“We’ll be okay,

As long as we’re together,

We’ll not end up perfect

But we’ll end up fine.”

And from then I knew

It wasn’t gods or fate

That mattered to you

It was us.