And romantic,
And sweet
And I understood it
The connection, feeling the other person's warmth,
The symbolism, two people reaching out to bridge the gap between them.
But what they didn't tell me was how her hand would feel in mine
How warm and soft it would be
Every movement, every twitch, communicating something without words
The infinite ways they can rest on each other, the ways our fingers can intertwine.
The difference between a quick squeeze, and held pressure, and just the weight of existing on top of each other
Brushing her hand with mine or just sliding one finger up and down the side of hers
To say, I'm here. It'll be alright. You're here too. I'll keep you safe. We're here together.
The ridges and lines of her palm, brushing against the tips of my fingers.
An entire language I never learned but we invented together, that every combination of people must be reinventing when they hold each others' hands.
I was told that holding hands was cute
Sometimes that it was naive, childish
Or bold, transgressive
What they didn't tell me, is that it would be everything.
This has spiked my yearning levels right off the fucking charts.
Our hands are how we interface with the world, they are used for anything and everything. To take such a multifaceted instrument, to occupy it solely with the comfort of someone loved and trusted. It's simultaneously cute, comforting, reassuring, communicative, erotic, and a proud declaration of your relationship to each other. It is everything.
It's really no wonder I think it's one of the hottest acts two people can engage in.