My hands are rough br I can see the lines br and how they’ve changed their route br across my palms br br and I saw you stare at them br and then at me br br but I’ve nothing left to give br my skin is raw br br and you’ve grounded br all the mounds br until they’re flat br br but still you’re begging br and still I’ll cup my hands br and pour what’s left br upon your bloody heartbr br Sheila Knowlesbr br