Fingers

with a little note attached

to your heart.

Fingers

trying to capture in words

something larger than words can hold.

Fingers

on strings

that sing

And your voice

lingers

and caresses me, the way your

fingers

cannot.

Fingers

now a fist

containing the frustration

expressible only in a yawp.

I hope your

fingers

have not done anything they will regret.

Because the feeling of

fingers

reaching out for a

hand

that isn’t there

has enough power to break hearts.