cold, empty hands.

cold, empty hands that want to grip the reality. but they slip and slide all over the place, not knowing exactly, how to hold on.

cold, empty hands that feel for the edge, for the security of the past...

cold, empty hands that look to feel for the warmth of the fire...
but she gets burned....

how is it that something so beautiful, so colorful,
can give both content and pain?

i may never know.