26d • General discussion
In my hands
You ever miss someone
who doesn’t miss you back?
I hold the thought of you
in the palm of my hand,
but it slips through my fingers
like quiet grains of sand.
And as I lie awake,
I wonder if the thought of me
lingers softly in your mind
just before you sleep.
I guess it’s bittersweet
Because at the end of the day
At least the thought of you
Is here with me
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In my hands
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A space where love meets fear. Raw, vulnerable poetry that captures longing, obsession, and the beauty of feeling everything deeply.
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