Hands

I watched you watch my hands.
You studied them for a long time 
As I pushed a strand of hair
Behind my ear,
Subconsiously fiddled
With my cardigan button,
Drummed my fingers
On the table.
I wondered
If you were imagining
How soft they were,
How they would feel
If they touched
Your chest,
How’d they’d look
Placed delicately, relaxed
On the pillow beside me
As I sleep.
Then I realised you
Weren’t looking at my hands.
Your thoughts were far from here,
From this table, this evening, this wine.
Perhaps you had no thoughts at all.

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