These hands were meant to hold
Caress, cuddle, keep safe
Fingertips tingling
Body trembling
What happens when we are no longer allowed to love freely?
When there is no one to pour love onto?
It is building up and rotting
Thrashing at the cage of my ribs
All of this rot turns to clenched fists
Painful infected wounds
Trying to remove the infection but it has nowhere to go
How do I grow love when the soil has been tainted?
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