Hands

In a world where there are a thousand hands holding scalpels and clamps, willing to dissect every nerve and vessel of your body till you bleed anxiety and turn into a carcass, Hands that carry a book, a bar of chocolate and a jar full of kindness deserve to be cherished. Hands that wear their heart on their sleeves despite being shattered, Hands that cup your cheeks like parentheses and catch your tears before they roll out on your chin and fall off your face, Hands that are trembling themselves yet manage to hold onto yours when a storm is brewing, need to be acknowledged. Hands that write earth shattering poetry, that paint the most beautiful sunsets, that strum the strings of the guitar like it's the only thing they've ever known; Hands that give out notes of hope on days when you're feeling a little blue, that hold onto you a little tight...