Of course I noticed when
he placed his hand next to mine on the counter
(a little closer than accidental).

The hand that once made my soul swirl when it touched me.
The same hand I watched rip my heart from my skin
and crush it between its fingers,
while mine frantically fumbled and fought like fiends
to prevent him from slipping through them like sand.

I knew that hand better than the back of mine.

So I pulled back and pushed away
any of those memories before they gained enough strength
to pick and pry and wrap their prongs around my neck.

But by the time I realized what I could do,
I could already feel them on my throat.