(Source: fairnes-s, via lisavrdnck)

Tags: hands

(Source: oneiraki)

What the hands tell, a study

That night I took hold of his hand,
he held it as if he was reminiscing
on what connection felt like,
before he let go,
as though my veins were roots,
burrowing into the palm
of his secrets.

Photography/style: Alexander Kuzmin

Photography/style: Alexander Kuzmin

(via love-your-french)

(Source: hottkamax)

A letter to my hands

I know I taught you to hold on to everything that disappears, too tightly.

I convinced you each time that things would be different.

But, I also taught you that you had fire in your fingertips and fight in your fists.

I taught you that no matter how much it would hurt you couldn’t give up.
Nothing that would be worth it would come easy.

Sometimes you have to learn that you have to hold on in order to teach others that letting go is the easy way out.

I never wanted you to be the hand that let’s go. I taught you to fight.

I fear you’re letting me go.

I remember the days when I would sketch you over
and over
and over
I followed your angles like the path home.

I fear I sketched you to remember your glory.

Together we have learned to heal. Your touch, my heart.

We’ve been the security for small hands searching for the hand that will never let go. The drier of tears. The creator of visual representations of all we see. The writer of words gone unspoken. The lover who cherished touching his body like the gilded treasures it possessed. The dancing fingertips playing silent music.

You have been my connection to the world. You allow me to experience my feelings in the flesh. You are the past, the present and
I need you to be the future.

I know I taught you to hold on too tightly. I know these days your hold is growing tired.

Don’t let go. I promise I will never let you hold to anything I know will disappear any longer. I promise to take more care to recognize what you need. I promise to not push you too far. I promise to never let go. So please, don’t let go.

We have tears to dry. Lips to touch. Small hands to hold. New places to experience through our fingertips. Rain droplets to collect in our palms. Skin to caress like the welcoming light of the moon on water.

We have hands to find that will never let go of ours. So please, don’t let go.

I taught you to fight. I taught you to fight with love and commitment. So please, don’t let go.


Your heart

(Source: mathieuvladimir, via deadgirls)