Hold This Hand

IMG_0182-1.jpg

Hold this hand

calloused, tired

and grasping,

grasping

at this hard air

slipping through fingers

that want to hold on

onto anything

anything

that feels real.

They catch nothing,

hold nothing,

hold nothing I want

to keep.

So catch me

catch me, as I drift

without tether.

Turn my face

so my eyes

meet yours.

The beginning of me

being found.

—jennifer j. camp

IMG_2961-1.jpg
IMG_2960-1.jpg
IMG_2959-1.jpg
IMG_2958-1.jpg
IMG_2957-1.jpg
Previous
Previous

How She Finds Him

Next
Next

I Never Thought