to the stars who listen: poetry

16. beginning of the end

cold silk
you slip through my fingers
your eyes an ocean of kindness
but the love is gone,
dry to the bone.
for once, i find words useless.
your fingertips, warmly frost-glazed
still administer a slight jolt of electricity, clearly
everything and nothing has changed.
four pieces of a jigsaw reunite
like nothing is different
we don't fit together
quite the same anymore,
and yet we are still the same synchronised symphony of harmonious laughter
we always were.
your suit and tie are crisp,
your smile used to be soft,
yet now
your edges are - almost -
serrated
cold velvet;
supple, sharp,
the residue of love
clings to my back
where your arms lingered
fleetingly
welcome to the beginning
of the first finality.