• Her hands look like they should be soft.
    She’s the type of girl that takes care of things in her life.
    She pays the rent, feeds the cats, and earns straight A’s.
    Not to mention she deals with a narcissistic mother.

    I never expected hands could be as calming as hers.
    Granted, I never actually held them in my own,
    But many times she would place hers above mine,
    Stopping time with a simple touch.

    She was always witty, clever to no accord.
    The only time I didn’t mind being called John was with her.
    Something about her tone made me adore it.
    Adoration has always been an unfamiliar feeling for me.

    Her warm hands gently touch mine.
    Nearly scalding me,
    My heart jumps with pleasure.
    Her gold ring speaks to me.

    In that instant, I see the true her;
    She is my Fountain of Youth, but also my forbidden fruit.
    I yearn to be near her, for she will save me.
    But I can’t. Not yet, at least.

    Her hand lets go, leaving me weak.
    The pumping gets louder.
    We quickly regret our biggest mistake,
    Forever hoping for a part 2.