imageHolding on as tight as I can to a man who has lost his grip.

Trying so desperately to grasp his skin but between my fingers he slips.

I frantically reach for that special touch. A touch that seems so true.

What I don’t realize is, that touch I crave, doesn’t want me to.

The hand that lingers within my grasp….

Is nothing but a ghost, of lovers past.

Monica.

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