Vent

fingers

ive never been an affectionate person
even as a child, seldom did I cuddle my parents
or, really anyone, unless they forced me
when people go to make physical contact with me,
my urge is to always avoid
hugs, for the most part, are just awkward
and sex, god. so much work
(when it's with a stranger)

but an embrace i always fondly welcome,
is the grace of a hand
the slipping of a lovers palm, the sound of their skin against yours
your nerves lighting up like fireworks

a simple, but comforting gesture
feeling the grooves and scars,
the textures and patches of dry skin
the warmth of their palms

somehow, your entire body feels
when your hand is locked in embrace
with another
you feel the heat
the safety
the reassurance
that your existence in that moment,
bonded by a weaving
of delicate and weathered fingers,
is wanted
you're their tether, and them yours

how I miss the feeling,
but I can reminisce as much as I need to