Your middle and index digits
On your right hand
The fingers with which you hold your cigarette

The same fingers
You slid inside my flesh
Between my thighs, to claim my body

The same fingers you extended
In a salute to all the things you hate in this world

The thumb of your right hand
That you used to brush away my stray tears
And wipe sauce from my chin
To then place in my mouth, to suck
And bite on

Every keystroke so intimate
Everything you do
All the little actions with your hands
Speak volumes
About the person mapped out in your fingerprint

Your DNA is in your touch
And now you’re gone
My skin aches for it