I remember when we held onto each other
When we had each other’s hands,
Unable— unwilling to let go
And then all at once you let go of me
Let my arm fall to my side and drift
I couldn’t let that happen,
I snatch you back; I held your arm,
I couldn’t let you go yet
I wasn’t done with happiness
My grip was relentless
Panic in my heart for you—
For losing you
But with every word you cut a finger
Every gesture you stabbed my palm
In vain I switched hands
But your dislike cripples my wrist
And then in one fall sweep,
I realize I hold onto you now,
only with the skeleton of my affection
In the pain my grip loosens
But in the heartache, I let go
But now, with these dead hands
I can hold to no one
They are weak and broken
I must protect them
I must never hold on again
Except myself
I must only trust myself to hold onto
If I were ever to touch another
Ever to keep another, they could be damaged again
I will keep them close
I will shield them from the world
Cover them in hatred so others find them distasteful
I will close them to the world
The scars of my palms will never be revealed
They will remain in the darkness—
In the pockets of my heart and mind.
**Not a fan of the title or last two lines, if you have any suggestions.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
Hi, Catcher. If that's what you go by D: So many people, so many nicknames. Argh.
Anyways, nice to meet you.
To the review, now...
I can clearly understand the cliche meaning of this poem. Very cliche, but you presented it a little differently, which was nice. However, you say you do not like your title...but I actually do. I think it's quite nice.
However.
I do not really like this. Some lines don't fit, seem forced almost.
Also, punctuation.
Remember ^^ that.
Tata.
-Mizz
I can understand the meaning and feeling to this poem, of course, I think most of us can. I like the title, Troubled Hands. But I liked even more the idea of the palm that you incorporated in poem. The whole idea of holding out the palm of our hands to receive clicks in my head. Like you openly reached out to that person, as you do by extending your hands outward, yet in the manner that you had your palms upward to receive that person inwardly as well.
I know when you say "dead hands" it is a metaphor for maybe a non-existent relationship; but I simply don't like that idea or word choice (just my opinion). To me hands are always alive. Detached hands sounds more ideal to me.
I like the line "The scars of my palms will never be revealed"
So to build off of that and formulate a good conclusion, I will give you a few of ideas...
For the palms of my hands never face the sun,
I wave to the ground, for I have been bound
I gave and took as easily as my heart fuels my mind
Just a quick simple idea for you... like I said the palm idea is great, build off of it!
Heya this is pretty good, just a few pineckity details :
You're using past tense, so stay in it = your dislike crippled my wrist , not "cripples".
Try and give it more flow, it has no rhymes or meter which is fine, it just needs to flow better, maybe try and think of ways to arrange it on the page to give it a more interesting performative structure.
If you're telling a story, tell it fully, if you're just reminded of something far away, give it a more distant, regretful tone. Listen to the words you use, make them more musical.
Love
Velvet