convertions
hideyogirl
Sometimes, when I’m typing out an assignment, and I stop to take a break, I crack my knuckles, stretch my fingers out, and think about the relationship you’ll have with my hands.
I think about how you’ll intertwine your fingers with mine, how I’ll brush strands of hair away from your face when it’s windy and I want to look at you.
How my thumbs will gently dig into the muscles in your shoulders, working away the stress of a long day, and how you’ll hold your hands up against mine, comparing their sizes, marveling at how they fit together so well.
I wonder if you’ll be able to feel my pulse racing, the first time we hold hands, or if I’ll be able to feel yours when I cup your face in my hands to kiss you.
I think about the days you’ll come home, and I’ll be cooking; how I’ll dip my finger into the curry or the sauce, and hold it up for you to taste – relishing the feeling of my finger against your lips, while you enjoy the spice.
I think about my hands holding you, playing a crucial part in my memories of the way you feel on the rare nights we don’t get to sleep next to each other.
And I think about my hands holding our children, putting band-aids on tiny, scraped knees, fixing little ponytails, securing diapers, doing up the laces on the cutest little sneakers.
My hands were made to hold you, to work together with yours in building our lives together.
Love,
Me
viciousclass
1onemoretime1
damn-funny
your-lesbian-friend
xodiamondsovo
standingattheendoftherainbow
sarahlovesunicorns