Commitment

I promise to hold your hand. Not just as we walk down the shimmering streets at night, stolen glances passing between us, hidden smiles that we won’t show elsewhere. But when I’m not even there, if I’m gone or lost or just not present, I’ll hold your hand still.

I’ll hold your hand through it. Even if you don’t notice, I will pull your hand away from your wrist, your neck, loosen your grip gently. So gently that you might think that nothing changed at all, but it matches your thoughts. Not that your thoughts soften, or that you can bring yourself to call out, but maybe the ghost of my hand on yours is a comfort, calming the waves of panic that my lack of presence cannot fully part.

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