Meshed Up

Hands clasped together, fingers intertwined

The way they rest on a wooden desk on the first day of school

The way we held each other one sleepless, wordless summer night

The way our souls exist.

Fisted hand engulfed by another hand

The way paper beats rock during a tie-breaker at the end of recess

The way your life and your problems consumed me for many, many months

The way we will not be again.

Two upright hands, palm to palm

The way you’re taught to pray when you’re a four year old kid

The way two friends—friends who are only friends (and nothing more)—coexist

The way we cannot be.

Two hands, connected by hugging thumbs

The way they’re placed right before an arm wrestle match

The way two people—ones who are partners, lovers, and friends—live

What we never were.

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