Frail.

Hey guys! So sorry I haven't uploaded anything in so long, it's been a mixture of writer's block and having so many things to do.


I'm listening to slow music right now and that's usually an easy source of inspiration for me. So I'm going to try writing something little. Sometimes I literally have no idea what I'll be writing about until I start writing. So here it goes. :)


We grew up in the warmth of our palms.
His eyes the only shade of happiness I knew.
And the first day we met,
I don't remember a lot.
But I remember the frailness of his fingers, mine were probably just as frail or maybe even worse.
But it made me worried.
Made me want to help him.
Play games with papers and stones.
And build castles in our heads like they could strengthen our minds.
So we played.
With intoxicating innocence.
We played until we forgot how not to smile.
Until we ran to heaps of sand to build with it, the castles in our minds.
We played until he was 22 and was trying to figure out how to ask a girl with eyes, the color of the morning sky, out.
Until they broke up 2 years later for reasons I knew would come soon but still helped him get the girl for fear that those frail hands would return.
We held hands even when his hands were frail again from heart break and his eyes were a different shade from what I knew.
We held hands until he remembered how to smile again.
Until we decided not to let him fall stupidly again.
And many foolish years later...
We held hands as we slipped on rings on our already destined fingers.
We held hands for many more years, as we fell and pulled each other up over and over again.
We held hands as the days came when the only thing that kept us alive were the feel of our palms against each other.
We held hands until our hands were frail and shaken with age.