The spaces
Between my fingers
Used to be called home
To yours.
The spaces
Are filled with desperation;
And heartbeat laced memories,
Thick with longing
And comfort.
Your fingers
Used to overpower
Mine;
A battle
That you always won
In which I always tried to
Hold tight to my
Stability
And balance.
Eventually I
Let go.
My fingers
Ache to graze yours;
An assurance that you were
Real
And mine.
I can still feel
The phantom of your
Touch;
Tracing the lines on my palm,
Searching for images
The way we used to
In the Clouds.
Emptiness consumes my
Palms
Like quick sand;
Very slowly overpowering me
The more I struggle to get to
You.
