billfriday.com

fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Archive for the tag “hands”

Rollercoaster

rollercoaster wide

Love is a rollercoaster. 

It wasn’t made to go in a

straight line,

and the turns are unexpected. 

Sometimes as you ride,

you can’t breathe,

and you feel like

your bones will break,

and at the worst moments,

you don’t even believe the lap bar

will keep you safe. 

But there is the hand of the one riding next to you. 

Squeezing your hand so tight

you think your fingers will pop,

yet you never want them to ever let go. 

Because it’s in that hand that

you feel the only safety there is. 

Not the safety of the lap bar,

but the safety of love. 

Flying, falling, twisting without warning. 

And with it,

the unbroken knowing that

as they are squeezing your hand,

you are squeezing theirs. 

Neither of you with any

plans for letting go.

 

© 2017 William S. Friday

FOMO

 

empty-hands

Fear of missing out. 

I didn’t know it was a thing,

until I was without. 

Didn’t feel its sting,

until it came about. 

Learned it had a name,

now I take the blame,

for listening.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

Come Flooding Back

photo credit "We Were Strangers" c 2012 Redboy

photo credit “We Were Strangers” c 2012 Redboy

My hands smell

like dispensered soap

from the bathroom

inside Starbucks

 

clean

like the hospital room

where my son died

all those years ago.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2014 Bill Friday

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: