[between fingertips]

i sat awhile in your driveway,
the music fading into whispers
as silhouettes passed by your window
i thought: maybe love is silhouettes;
yours, and mine.

i sat awhile on your doorstep,
the greener mantle muffling nearby children
as their laughter tinkled dark against the sky.
i thought: maybe love is laughter;
yours, and mine.

i sat awhile in your bedroom,
the carpet devouring paper trails
as i looked through our old pictures.
i thought: maybe love is pictures;
yours, and mine.

i sat awhile in your bathroom,
the cold tile echoing the movements
of my face inside your mirror.
i thought: maybe love is mirrors;
yours, and mine.

i saw you through the window
the glass between us cut through silence
as you pressed your fingertips to mine.
i thought: love is between fingertips-
yours. and mine.