Dexterity Lacking

My fingers are calloused from pressing on steel
They're stained silver-black from length of exposure
So many times have my hands walked these routes
Familiar paths of familiar songs

And long have my hands been creased by wear
And long have my hands had to bear the weight
Of my own head
Held soft in shame and sadness

The ink on their backs
It runs black
One line poems (quickly penned there)
Quickly penned there fade
Like so many memories before them
Forgotten
Just like the feelings that birthed them

My fingers are calloused from pressing on steel
They're stained silver-black from length of exposure


- posted by Jonathan@ 10:19 PM