Tight Grip

Some people believe that your life
is dependent on that simple curve of your palm
defined by the numerous strokes of fate
residing in your stretched hands
residing in the grip you had as a child
in your mother's womb
but right now my life depends on your hands

I wish i had more lazy afternoons
to blindly memorise the lines on your hand
because then i'd know my fate as well
because it is intertwined with yours

Some people judge you on your grip of a handshake
firm and confident, lousy and scared or indifferent and common
But how confidently it resides near my waist
as you guide me around a hall of strangers
that seem to know an adjacent pair of eyes so well

How gently it strokes my neck as we lay in bed empty of the day
like the bottles on the floor with shoes stuffed with socks

Some people don't have a hold on their reality
not realising how far gone they are
until there seems nothing left to hold on to
like free falling from a cliff into an ocean
instead the fear grips you and all you can feel
is the wind blowing in the wrong direction

But the grip I have on your hands right now is all i can focus on
as the rains beats against the window telling me to let you leave
the way your handprints will leave the blankets next morning

Tear my eyes away from the door frame through which i hope you would come back
I tread back to the bed in the corner of the room
shutting windows and drawing curtains to feel secure
and the only grip i have right now is on the blanket above my head








"How do we keep this this?
How do we keep this bliss?"
~Troye Sivan