For me the idea of holding hands is incredibly intimidating. But the idea of him holding my hand is always going to be tantalizing. Because holding his hands is more than the perfectly intertwined fingers, its more like holding a treasure that i was lucky enough to find, he was stupid enough to hold my hand when he knew nothing about holding on to or holding together.when he first held hands with me i remember how perfectly shaped they looked together, My hand looked tiny in his hand, we sat there admiring how different in sizes our hands were yet perfectly fitted together i was lost in how just the simple act of holding his hand can give me a feeling of safety, sweaty hand with a hint of icy shiver, i was disturbed by his voice ” yours hands are so small and fragile , while my hands are big and rough i’m excited about how our kids hands are going to be like.” i pushed him away and laughed at him and replied with “your a kid for now!! first grow up” But its all a part of our memories now, or maybe my memories. now he holds her hand with the same old smile plastered on his face, I just sit here and wonder how it might have felt to hold another girls hand, after you held mine.I wonder if those hands sweated or shivered, like they did when we held hands. Most of all i wonder if it felt wrong ? or mismatched ? did yours fingers meshed in an awkward position? do you remember holding hands with me ? or did you for once wish it was my hand you were still holding ?all i want is just to hold your hand; i reached out but only to find air filling the spaces between my fingers.