I stare at your hand as you drive

butterflies crawling up my throat

I know you dangle your hand between us

as a silent invitation for me

so sweet but yet still I’m scared

because I’ve been turned away

and left behind enough to mar my skin in burning scars.

But you break through my thoughts and these aged walls

with a gentle hand on my knee you soothe my burning

and I wish to lean across the seat and kiss thank yous

on your neck but for now my fingertips do the talking.

-Aug 2017