Lines On Your Hand

I'm looking at the lines on your hand,

They run deep and dark,

As if they are almost inscribed layers deep in your skin,

And then I look at mine,

Surprised to see so many of them,

From the last time.

I'm looking at the lines on your hand,

They are so different and so less than mine,

As if you transferred some of them to me when you held my hand,

And they just became mine,

For me to keep,

A little of yours for just me.

I'm looking at the lines on your hand,

Wondering if palm-readers could really tell the future,

And then, if I'm there in it or not,

Or if you're there in mine or not,

For me to create more lines on your hand,

By giving some of mine for you to hold on.

image from pinterest