It made me remember how often I cross my arms when I’m sitting, and stick my hands in pockets when I’m standing (and scuff my heels – another pair of trainers worn through recently)
the feeling of bracing – I could lift this body up in one hand, sprung on the wrist the soft touch of fingertip on one hand, the dense, tougher skin on the other the special care for grazed palms the cool of fingertips, the smooth lake surface of backs of hands, the heat of the palms how my hands are a part of my body I take aesthetic pleasure in
I remember holding my left hand by its left side (little finger side) into the palm of my right hand. The heat comes from the inside of my palm and more fragile and cooler left little finger and side rest into the right palm like a warm bed.
Melting. Falling Slowly. Supported. Collapsing. (The words are connected by a blood line running from my heart to my hands…beyond).
My left thumb is slightly small than the right. I used to suck the left one as a child with the index finger hooked over my nose. I did this until I was 11. A comforting.
homecoming like minded soul son lover twin been apart where did we go? we hold tingle pulsate and part looking, really looking across the room open windows and wait in silence watch the billowing curtains we brush as we make coffee and again hold as we sit across the table me and me meeting like no other