It's their hands and feet I can't stop looking at.
Intimate, taking the same form, as though in an embrace. The matching slouch of their hips; casual and open. It's tender somehow. Studded belt, cut-off Dickies, the bad tattoos-- but still he looks vulnerable, touching his own side, his friend's arm outstretched.
You never know what happens between people in a relationship. Even if it's your relationship.
Or I am I just being sensitive.
It's the fall-out. It's hard to take when I think of it too long and suddenly everything looks sad and misunderstood.