There are things I can do with my hands.
I can thread the needle, cover my ears,
Turn the calendar and wipe my tears.
After a hot shower,
I like to draw myself in the mirror.
But I find that I am alone.
I don't understand this scribble on the glass.
"This is it?", I think, and I curse my hands.
I reach out, wishing to trace you.
But I do not.
I cannot draw you and I don't know how,
Because you are not here.
I need you with me,
Because what I try to form is always shapeless.
Together, love can be realized.
Let us touch hands.
Together, we can form a love beyond compare.
With our hands,
We can compose love's silhouette.