Fingertips

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Some questions I cannot help but ask myself:

Am I letting you escape from my fingertips

by erasing your telephone number and

allowing your brilliant gaze to unsnarl itself

from the void that is my heart?

Or, in hopes that you will yet return --

but with the prior knowledge that, much

unlike a boomerang, you soar continuously

until met by an entirely different set of

eyes as captivating as your own --

am I feebly nudging you away?

Does erasing your phone number 

from my list of contacts even really

amount to much if, in my memory

forever lodged are the ten digits that

pertain directly to you?

And is eliminating your gaze from my

heart even important now that your

touch is forever embedded into my skin?

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