handling layers

hands.

hands.

hands.

hands are so important. for so many different things.

hands touch, feel, feed, push, punch, struggle, smother, smooth, crush and caress.
you can tell a lot about a person by looking at the condition of their hands.

i’ve found myself sort of staring at my hands lately. wondering at the lines, the shape, the new character they are taking on. it’s probably all just in my head. but i’m letting myself be me, more and more, and in the same way, i’m letting my hands be who they are, too. no more contrived postures, no more concerted efforts to be overly feminine in order to compensate for my unfeminine gait.

i love the way they look these days. soft, with rounded edges … though my fingertips are slightly rough because of the pressure i exert onto violin strings, in making music.

but i make this music in other ways too. i sing into the sunlight of warm afternoons. i sing into the moonlight of nights like tonight, when my wonderlust gets the best of me (oh how i have loved to wonder…) and hands know words that lips can only dream of.

hands are useful things. they cook, count, clutch, open and close, fold and mend, lift and lay.

lay.
lay.
lay.

they do that, too. don’t they?
they lay me down when i’ve had too much to drink
they lay me down when i’m too tired to think.

but it’s the moments when i’m fully aware of my surroundings, irresistible and in control. that those laying hands are overwhelmed with wanderlust. the power of my seduction. I lower my gaze, and my rebellious pouting lips smirk victoriously.

i shall never lack for conquests, suitors, and worshipers.

but it isn’t the lack I fear. It’s the abundance. I just want one that I can trust.

one pair of eyes to gaze into, in which to lose myself, wandering. one pair of lips for kissing, for communicating, for caring. one pair of hands for touching, for holding, for safety.

hands that hold me tightly – but not too tightly. hands and arms that wrap around me, assuring me of rest and security. and the breast, the tenderness, compressed against mine, the hope, the health, the future adventures, the trust and companionship. the faith and the forgiveness.

i want it. i want it all. the hands and everything that comes with them. the eyes and everything i see in them. the hips that balance right-and-wrong, new-and-old, truth-and-disguise.

my hands are sun hands.
hands know words that lips can only dream of.

my lovely hands. my love’s hands.

hands.

hands.

hands.

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