When I think of how your fingers may have touched her
I wonder if she felt your grip
On her shoulders
Her legs
Her waist
Her wrists
And I wonder if I still feel your hands the same way as I used to.
We watch re-runs in bed
There's canned laughter in the background,
Tittering away as I lay beside you.
There's an undercurrent in the swell of voices
It hums insistently beneath the sound
Of promises made in the dark
When I strain my ears to hear what they're trying to say,
I hear them.
They're saying,
you're a fool
you're a fool
you're a fool