his hands hold her face,
fingers spread across
till each one anchors it
still.
slowly, softly
feeling the smoothness of her skin
marveling at the beauty
of her eyes,
her lips,
the curve of her neck.
she,
looks down to gather her stuff,
oblivious
his hands fall away,
contact of skin on skin
broken.
will she remember?
perhaps
in those nights
when she cries herself to sleep
dreaming of those fingers
holding her face still.
wishing she'd,
closed her eyes
and smiled...
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