i wasn't going to post this ::sigh::
__________
I didn't know it then but the first thing I noticed about you when we met was your hands.
When I was little, my aunt repeated constantly that it was not eyes that were the windows to the soul, but hands.
I remember your hands, because you moved them is this incredibly aristocratic fashion that I had never before witnessed on an 11 year old boy.
I remember that your skin was flawless, these pale lilies against a dark robe. Your skin was almost transparent, and I could catch glimpses of the delicate blue veins that traveled through your wrists.
I remember your nails, because they were immaculate, not bitten and dirty like mine. Your nails were brushed with clear gloss, and filed to subtle points.
I remember your hands because I was slightly afraid of them.
Until I looked in to your eyes.
end game.
__________
I didn't know it then but the first thing I noticed about you when we met was your hands.
When I was little, my aunt repeated constantly that it was not eyes that were the windows to the soul, but hands.
I remember your hands, because you moved them is this incredibly aristocratic fashion that I had never before witnessed on an 11 year old boy.
I remember that your skin was flawless, these pale lilies against a dark robe. Your skin was almost transparent, and I could catch glimpses of the delicate blue veins that traveled through your wrists.
I remember your nails, because they were immaculate, not bitten and dirty like mine. Your nails were brushed with clear gloss, and filed to subtle points.
I remember your hands because I was slightly afraid of them.
Until I looked in to your eyes.
end game.