lingers on my aching fingertips
they scrape the edge
of last weeks unopened valentine chocolates
candy roses don't leave petals
to pluck in wonder.
he loved me, he loves me not.
our light-hearted laughter floated
through the morning french toast
his fingertips lingered
along my ice cold arms
fill me with your warmth
tempt me with your care
eyes trying to remember what was once there
but connections millimeters too far.
he loved me then, he loves me not.
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