Where i leave my fingerprints

I leave my fingerprints so you know where I have been.
They’re on the crystal glass door knob, impeccably formed. Snug like Sophia Loren’s undergarments.
I left them on the glass cabinets that hold the priceless diamonds and pearls at Tiffany’s so you know where I am when you’ve given me the mean reds.

 I wanted to leave them on the Mona Lisa to evoke your memory of my smile, but they wouldn’t let me. Instead I left them on the Eiffel tower so you remember my fear, if you can hark back to the small things like that?

I went to that ice cream cart that sells those ridiculous ice cream flavours. Sazzleberry…peewee…& inkleberry? You remember when we both got an ice cream and we were standing there, all those police came out of nowhere and raided that shop? We looked back at our ice creams and they were sliding down our arms. I left my fingerprints there because that day we laughed away our shadows.

I left my fingerprints on her panties so you would remember me, they were satin pink; pretty little things. Covered in stains. On the inside and out…

 The last thing I left my fingerprints on was dire,  you didn’t know that as you were too busy discovering my fingerprints on her satin panties. The pill pot was perfectly rounded; my fingerprints felt they were where they rightly belonged. They looked most at home there, felt most at peace. Although they knew it was right, the fingerprints were bizarrely smudged. They looked like a ghost being sucked in to a vacuum. On the pills there were partials, palm prints, finger prints and imprints of my lips. Even though I’m certain they disappeared when they were swallowed.  

 The last limp fingerprints would be on your hands…..with no real feeling or conviction.