His hand was only resting

Like waiting at the bus stop
What did he know was coming
What was he holding back from
His hands should be covering hers
His face lost in her hair
White knuckles that squeeze as if to say
I’m not going anywhere
Baby, I am only here. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s