Fingerprints

This piece is based on a cry of an unborn child who, one who was not given a chance to see the world or to experience it's mother's love. Dedicated to lives that have been lost even before it has begun in the world.

Hold my knobbly palms,
Feel my crinkled, unformed fingers,
Have them curl around yours,
Let them set into the grooves of your fingerprints,
Sink into the map of your life,
Settle in with my almost non-existent weight.

Let me trace along your identity,
You as a part of me,
Every grit, crack, grain and edge,
Read the words scrapped into your walls,
The graffiti that taints your surfaces,
Feel the plaster that filled the lacerations.

I won't get a chance
To sit in your arms and listen,
Rest in your embrace,
Have our fingertips meet,
Graze the roughness of your hands
As you run your fingers over mine.

Allow me to stay here,
Lean my spine into your walls,
Listen to my skin vibrate
To your voice that resonates,
From these walls as you speak,
Your sorrow, your joy, your turmoil.

I am laced in your fingerprints,
A minuscule extension of you,
My tiny fingerprints on your heart,
An almost invisible mark left for you,
Leaving my weight on your fingertips,
As a reminder of my existence.

- SY

11:41H 25th August 2016

Jalan Pahang

SY is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaids.

She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfills the promises that she made.

She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times when things are doubled.

She's the kind who stands in the gap, who will only call it quits when it's a wrap.