Take me by the hand

Take me by the hand
and I will show you

the creases and fine lines
that frame my eyes.

We barter;
your dimples reveal themselves,

in exchange for my smile
and smile-lines.

My hand in yours,
you tell me it is small,

I shrink in self-consciousness
until reassurance.

We exist
in a secret world,

where no-one else is heard
over the clashing din of heartbeats.

Between my back and yours
we can breathe easier,

say what we are scared to say
and realise this is it.

No doubters here,
they exist only on the outside,

unable to see in
through the frosted glass.

If they could only see,
we could be without prejudice

but for now we only worry
about who is going to make the tea.