The presence of absence

When you open your hands i always find this place, where my dreams and reality collide.

I hold on to them.

Kiss, smell, lick them. 

And then picture myself in the near future, when im gonna be missing them. 

The small details, scratches and scars.
Cuts bruises, old stiches unstitched.
Glass knifes and asphalt.

Pieces of a life i couldnt see.
The childhood you hide and the secrets you keep.
The oceans, ponds, lakes and rivers.
All the smiles and all the tears.
The slaps and punches, the kisses and caresses.
The pleasure you had and the pleasure you gave.
All the sex and all the lovers.
All orgasms and all the pain.
The food you made the food you ate.
What you curse, what you pray.
The things you love the things you hate.

All the history since 89.

It's all in there. In these two hands of yours.
What u hold and what u let go.

Sometimes heavy, sometimes soft.

This touch i miss and crave everyday. 

This place i love.

This place where i do not belong.