[Author’s note: This was written in response to a conversation I had the other day with a friend about the hand-holding sit in the LGBT center held last year in response to on-campus hatred toward same-sex couples holding hands..]
Last night in fleeting passion
Our hands, like two strangers, met.
And like lips in most ardent prayer, held fast.
In the shadows of your room
My hands were free to study yours.
Intertwined. And inseparable.
But today you are cold.
Your hand still beside you
Enclosed in shadows,
And studied in secrets;
Longing to find warmth in the comfort of a touch.
Relaying the sweet nothings we long to speak
Our hands brush briefly as we part
For our lips cannot.