Our Hands

Can you not see it?
How my heart has stained your writs
All it took was a handshake
Mom always said I should find a better place
To place important things.
but on this sleeve, it fits
only life bleeds
so I leave it where I left it.

Packing somethings away to protect it
often is the best way to lose it.
I wonder if that is why we can not find her
Why her heart is hidden
But her blood her blood
Is on all our hands.

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