I want to take your hand in mine and explore.
Hold it in my own and trace the lines of your palm.
I want to memorize the wrinkled skin of your knuckles,
And know you through the scars on your fingers.
I want you to want to take mine.
You will take my painted fingers,
And ask me about the burns to them.
I will fall in love with you though your palms,
And lace myself to you through our fingers.
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