“My friend once told me she liked this guy because of his hands, and I found it absurd that anyone would develop feelings over one feature, and not care about the rest.
It wasn’t until you used your hands to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed. And I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer, and my insides exploded and my head buzzed with bliss.
And the first night you slept over, you fell asleep with your hand laid over my stomach and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn’t mind burning my skin.
The first time we got drunk, was the first time you played with my hair, and my god I was hooked, I’d drink forever if it meant you’d never stop.
And in public you’d hold my hand, and rub your thumb in little circles that left me wanting you more. No matter what, you would never let me go, I was glued to you, and I honestly didn’t mind.
When we talked about breaking up, you saw my lips quiver with fear, and you brushed over my lips with your fingers before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.With your hands on my hips, pulling me so close to you, leaving no space in between us. It was then I realized I never wanted you to go.
It’s now that, I finally understand why hands were the only feature that mattered."
— Hands, Carol Shlyakhova
(Source: cutterpillow92)
