Touch

I run my hands across
my notebook paper
because it reminds me of
your 800-count bedsheets.

I run my hands across
the condensation on my glass
because it reminds me of
the sweat on your skin.

I run my hands across
my wooden worktable
because it reminds me of
the roughness of your tongue.

I run my hands across
the sides of my keyboard
because it reminds me of
your bed’s headboard I’d grasp in passion.

I run my hands across
the soft pajamas I wear
because it reminds me of
your gentle caresses on my body.

I run my hands across
the dried blood on the floor
because it reminds me of
when I lost my virginity to you.

I run my hands across
my sharpened blade
because it reminds me of
the sting of seeing the two of you together.

I run my hands across
your bloody cotton shirt
because it reminds me of
the red I saw when I caught you in bed with her.

I run my hands across
your decapitated head
because it reminds me of
your sweet betrayal.

–

Image source: deviantart.com/vi-ol-et/art/touch-of-life-141925788
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