the things i miss most with distance are hands. your hand in mine, the way you hold a pen between your fingers, your hands grasped firmly around my waist, your fingers tracing my lips. i miss the way your hand tilts my chin up to kiss you or the way your hands make violent waves when you tell me a story. I miss the rise and flow, the sweeping gerstures and genth touchers.
I miss the way he don't we don't have to say anything, but simply lace our fingers together in the dark.

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