My hands are sad and made of wood

my hands are sad and made of wood.
speaking to them, I cursed...
and I felt in them the rain,
it gathers close around and shivers
too near to touch

...and there;
it dives deep and flashes,
like a dream that wakes then dimly fades
in thunder of eyelashes on my pillow, but you:
your words recede softly into that dark water...
casting shadows against my eyes