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Look at your hands. In 100 words, what do they tell you?
There are memories stored in my hands, beyond the reach of my mind. The touch of your skin, the texture, the slick, the weight of your breasts. So long ago I’ve forgotten.
But my hands would recognize in a moment all those things and more.
My fingers can find any key on the board. Though my brain doesn’t know where they are. They can see things my eyes can’t reach. They can send information.
My hands make love and supper. They gentle, soothe and hurt. They wield pens and needles, knives and cool cloths. They show me who I am.
There are memories stored in my hands, beyond the reach of my mind. The touch of your skin, the texture, the slick, the weight of your breasts. So long ago I’ve forgotten.
But my hands would recognize in a moment all those things and more.
My fingers can find any key on the board. Though my brain doesn’t know where they are. They can see things my eyes can’t reach. They can send information.
My hands make love and supper. They gentle, soothe and hurt. They wield pens and needles, knives and cool cloths. They show me who I am.
sleepy
(no subject)
That was so nice.
(no subject)
They are by far my favourite part of me.
Plus, hands, just gorgeous in general.
(no subject)
Damn, but you should be published.
(no subject)