Your fingerprints glow yellow,
Dotted all over my arms,
My chest.
Some already graduating to true bruise,
Violet
Eagerly pushing its way outwards
To wish me a happy new year.

Months ago, you pressed your thumb into a
Still wet painting and
Stamped lavender pigment onto my glasses.
I had said
I wanted to be able to look out
From its insides,
And you made that happen
For me,
Then and there.

Time passes, and
We find ourselves
Worn out, wanting,
Snowed in with nowhere to go but towards
Each other.

If I were anyone else, would
you still have kissed me?
If you were anyone else, would I have said no?

I don’t have the courage to ask
You these questions, or to ask why
You held on tight enough to
Leave me
With these mementos.

I have learned,
Though,
That it is possible to look through
A fingerprint.
You, my friend, taught me that.

We will have
To take time
To adjust
To the marks we made,
But I am hopeful we each can
Look into the eyes of the other, as if
They don’t hover between us,
These translucent,
Purple smudges.