It was all in the way you touched me,
Cold, displeased with the surface each fingertip grazed.
I tensed, thinking I’d prepared myself for what had become the usual,
a tense prelude to the darkness that shone itself in your eyes as you pulled away,
hand raised to the heavens, striking with force that knocked me backward.
Again, and again though we’d both said agreed there’d never be another moment such as this.