TOUCH

My face was smooth and even

I remember you saying

you always liked that about me

your hands were so soft

they made more love to me

than your body ever could

(or ever would)

When I cried

your fingers traced the rivers

and wiped them away

I can still feel your touch

hand cupped under my chin

it always made me smile

sometimes, it still does

I savored the fleeting moments

your fingers through my hair

or across my lips

holding hands left me giddy

I thought I understood

what was on your mind

Then came the silence

my own hands, longing to love you

were turned away

slapped down, crushed

without warning

tender memories reduced

to painful echoes

Now I sit here without you

fingering strands of hair

occasionally wiping away a tear

or touching my lips in thought

it's so familiar

but I do believe lines on my face

are beginning to show