2.19.22

Less words, today. We walked down the street together, as if it we'd done it before. I'm tired and I haven't yet reached the end of the sentence. I'm thinking of somebody's hands, yes. You said you were happy to hold my hand. Just for a moment. I thought your hands might help bring me to the end of the sentence paragraph stanza poem song breath. 

You told me something and I never forgot it. You said: "It doesn't matter what you say, as long as you mean it." 

What's all this wanting for? Where do people put it all down? Does it fit in their car arms home life heart?

Somebody's hands. Somebody's hands.