Right hand to right elbow

Hello, right elbow. Perhaps, you haven’t noticed me much. I’ve been here all along. No, stop looking to the left. Just a bit higher, right. It’s me. I’m the right hand. Your hand. You know, I have a nice observation point up here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not stalking you or anything. It’s just the way things are, am I right?
You must get on very well with the left elbow-hand. It’s natural. They’re so close. You’ve got so many possibilities together. I’ve seen you having fun. Though, I did see you upset from time to time. You, looking straight ahead, straight to the dark scary emptiness.
At night, when only snow-white sheets may provide some light to this cramped room, you’ve been bending and unbending for hours on end. Dear elbow, I’m worried for you. You can say I have no right to. But if needed I would name you 5 not just pinky but thumb reasons why I want to. When these sheets are icy cold do you feel the same? When you touch the edge of them are you frightened? I know I am.
Have you seen my map of lines? Oh, yes, sure you haven’t. Left elbow-hand wanted to take a look but if you knew me, you would understand that I’m not the one who would show something like that to some strangers. I’m dying to show you though. You’d certainly know what to do. Does it show the past? Does it determine the future?
I’m writing all this to say we aren’t supposed to be together in any way. We can’t meet. We can’t connect. We can’t touch. We aren’t to coincide. They may even say we live in different worlds. Chalk and cheese, huh?
Dear right elbow, just be sure that I’ll always be the one striving, reaching out but never grasping.

P.S. Cruelly ironic but a high-five would be a nice good-bye line.

Love,
Right Hand