I wish I could hold your hand.
Not gently, rather the way that leaves your palms sweaty and your fingers entwined with mine. The kind where our hands stay locked when we swing our arms together while we walk. Even if I decided to pirouette, our hands would break their hold for only a short moment before finding each other again. They know where they belong.
While I’m holding your hand I’d like to walk along the beach. We would be barefoot and having serious conversations about nothing important and pick up pretty shells and wood on the sand to show each other. Nothing else would matter because we would be together, holding hands. At that specific moment in time you would be mine.
Our toes burrow into the sand with every step trying to get a grip on something you can’t really hold onto for very long. We can hold each other. Noticing me reach for your other hand, you offer it freely. You offer no resistance when I pull you to me then throw my arms around your neck. It feels right. I could stand there all day holding you. While I hold you, you are mine.
Now I’m desperate to kiss you. Surprisingly for both of us, our lips meet halfway. I taste the salt on your lips before I taste you. Electricity surges through me and I am lost in a thousand thoughts as our lips and tongues seek to know each other. An exploration of souls. A short and soft kiss, but still a first. It would be the most memorable of all our kisses.
A huge wave crashes into the beach, and sea spray brings me back from my reverie. I turn in time to watch the tide reclaim the wave. We can watch the ocean, visit it, play in it and adore it but we never own it. It’s like us
I wish I could hold you.
© trinket 2017
