between your fingers,

between your fingers,
my fingers, between my
knuckles, your knuckles.
we can replay the
configuration in our
mind, measure
the ounces of blood
that must have rushed to
travel alongside,
but we can’t retrieve
the feeling of
completion, when the
last piece of the
puzzle gets pressed
into something whole,
endeavoring for a
recognizable picture
.
20170114:2346
y

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