You know when I sit beside you I, purposely look at your hands, leisurely rolling on the table. Half of your expressions are conveyed before the eyes or lips move. Like those hands hold the unasked love of the entire world or the description of your last vacation you try to tell in boomerang finger movements. Long, slender, enchanting fingers that melts me in the wall.
It mesmerises me madly how every body-part dances in some subtle excitement but then there are hands to show how far one can go from north pole to another through the extended arms giving everyone a giant hug. You make me believe I stand on the balcony of a fancy hotel overlooking Eiffel or getting ready to snowboard in alps and you there to catch me in your competent, certain hands if ever I fall.
They way your warmth-caked palms bang the table at a joke, the way those fingers brush against the glass you are holding, the way the tips caress water droplets, sliding your thumb up and down like its you who’s quenching its thirst not the other way round. It’s a revolution against boredom.
I’d love to get lost in those hands for hours, days or at 3am in the morning. Those arms, wordless and pouring of love. And the hug, warm countryside cottage on a chilly winter night. I’d love to give myself in in your fireplace.
©kanikachugh
i look at hands, a lot!
They deserve attention 🙈