My calloused hands..

Broken from the intense work that I do.

They’re not soft like you would think.

But I wonder, if these rough hands could be held by another.

Hands trailing up my sides,

Holding my chin,

Hands patting my head for comfort,

Fingertips grazing up and down my back to soothe my hot tears.

It’s the best feeling,

To know that someone’s there.

Even they just quickly squeeze my hand,

At least know I’m not alone.