there are times i still feel your fingertips grazing my cheek from when you stared at me as we procrastinated our goodbye.
i feel as though when your touch finally forfeited and you left that day, some sort of bond was made.
some invisible string tied us together at the wrists, and on the days we don’t speak my fingers go numb.
i tap them and beg for my senses to wake on the tables and counters i pass, in a rhythm that matches no other beat but your heart.
i wonder if you lose feeling at the thought of me.