MY ROUGH YET GENTLE HANDS

You were about to hold my hand It was a gentle touch, but my skin showed roughness with gentleness— The confusion made your head spin. Poor you, you were trying hard to break my walls. But the feel on my skin was same your attention was on my eyes. You became tired by knowing that they didn’t open the door to my soul. You became impatient. Now you were holding my hand near your face, but you were patient enough, love, Stubborn to try once again. Then your eyes were— slowly, gently, and sharply— gazing into mine. Still, your hand holding mine slid to my pulse, feeling its beat. My eyes opened the door to my soul. My walls melted. My breath hitched. The shock in your eyes, your freezing body, still holding my pulse tighter, as if asking me— Are you fine? Then my tired heart responded. You listened to my voice with your heart instead of your ear. Will you stay loyal to me? Will you accept me? Won’t you betray me?