Left it on the glass door by accident—

Left it on the glass door by accident—

my thumb, the whorl pattern visible

when the light hit it a certain way.

It stayed there all morning.

I kept noticing it.

That small signature nobody asked for,

that ridge map of where I've been,

that proof I touched something.

You don't think about fingerprints

until you see your own.

Until you realize you're leaving

yourself behind on everything,

that you can't stop it,

that someone else could press their thumb

over the exact spot you touched

and never know I was there.