a jaded kind of beautiful

i like watching the way your hands work and the way you don’t even seem to notice them at all. there’s something beautiful about how you flex your nerves when you’re thinking way too hard or how you cradle your chin on your hand and unconsciously lead to biting your nails when your mind is somewhere else than you really are. it catches my attention when you brush your hair off your forehead with those long fingers as though each is more delicate than the other, when you hold the pen so tightly as though a splinter of your strength is needed to hold on to it and yet write with it so gently as though you’re afraid to hold too tight and cause it to break. you never think of it but there’s something incredibly fascinating about how each part of you works and how each mechanism like the stroke of your thumb or the pulse of your wrist means something —

but more than anything else i like the way i can read you with just those beautiful hands of yours