soft ones that would look good with red polish,
and a big diamond ring.
Or in a picture on top of a man's hand,
on top of a "just-married" white pillow.
Soft hands that weren't chapped since birth,
dainty ones that a boy would want to hold
instead of punch.
Where the lines on the palm would connect
and give me a good future
full of normal things that normal girls want.
I prayed but never got them.
Then one day they came -
Walked right up to me and grabbed my breasts,
pulled at my heart just beneath the surface,
nicknamed me and held me at night.
Played with my hair.
Played with my feelings.
Left me missing them.
Left me exposed.
I'm careful what I ask for now.
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