hands

he makes my hands shake

more than they already do

oh my, do they shake and tremble–even when he is not anywhere near

and i do not know if that is a good or a bad thing

and it scares me more than the late nights i have to walk home by myself

or the darkness under the bed and in the closet that keeps me from sleeping

(because sometimes i am quivering yet still steady)

and i want him to know my heart

the crooks and crannies of my soul,

i want him to dive in deep, searching through years of oppression and

happiness and anger and fear and love

because when it comes to him

i swear i feel anxiety and calmness at the same time

i’m not even sure if that can happen

but it does and i’m as reckless as the moon when it appears in the daytime

because what can live without the sun even

if it perpetually burns everything in the end

and he is wonderful electricity that burns my lungs

but my breath catches in the pit of my stomach and i try to

breathe through my shoulders

and they warned me about electrical sockets

about not sticking my fingers into the wall outlets

it was engraved in my brain

but they had no idea about him and his heart

and–