My hands

I look at my hands,
and wonder what i am capable of.
I reach out and try to touch,
what i cannot reach.
I hold on tight,
to what is not mine.
I trace the tears,
of those ive hurt.
I hold on to your hand.
though i really should not,
I wont let go,
wont loosen my grip.
Because i know that in the long run,
well still have each other.