Hands

I am scared of the unknown

of the future

of the present

of myself.

I have been my own company for as long as I can remember

I have gotten used to wiping my own tears away

I have gotten used to taping myself back together

my hands are hard to hold

they are small and soft, shattered and shaking

my hands are too weak to be held by hands like yours

we are too different

they would never fit together

you can try to fit two pieces of a puzzle together

you can try

the cracks are permanent

not even you could heal them

I wish you could

but a wish is all it is.