last night,
my fingertips laden with longing,
lingering and listening
wistfully wishing
memory glistening
of that magic first
that spark that ignited
pure and undeniable
as though reunited
true and unending
as though invincible
as though unquestionable
and truthfully? rather so...
my fingers sense all this
and the emptiness
of my bed
and my sides
to be next to you
is to be love.
