I lay my fingers on top of yours. Yours are soft while mine feels rough. You’re surprised because mine wasn’t like what it looks like and you forced your smile not saying anything. Didn’t dare to ask. You have no idea that that was why I chose you. Your soft fingers.

You don’t know what it’s like to have ugly fingers. Every time it grazes others skin, they itch.

I have had enough of this ugly hand, and has been wished for a beautiful one. I hope you understand and will give me yours willingly. I asked you if I could have it and you’re confused, didn’t get what I mean. So I smile, I held your hand dearly. I said I only need one so it’s okay, you won’t hurt much. There. You have one, and I have one. Thank you.

Writing 201: Poetry, Day Seven. Fingers, Prose Poem, and Assonance.


6 thoughts on “Mine

  1. Ugh!
    I can’t stop myself from assuming that this is kinda… “cut here, cut there” thing (sorry but I can’t seem to find the right word yet :hehe).
    Itu artinya yang satu ini keren. Menghanyutkan. Membuat saya membayangkan. Astaga! :peace

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