Big, strong hands over my hands
Which aren't very small
And that's why I liked your hands
Made me feel small

I don't do much with my hands
I think about what you might do with yours
Perhaps you play guitar
Or lift weights or make things
Like bird houses or fix cars

I have chipped nail polish
Black like the night as it is
I should fix it
But I don't do much with my hands
Except for when it comes to you

Hands upon hands
Grasping clasping wishing wanting
Desperate for more

As I hypothesize what you do with your hands