Stream of thought

It's faint
Growing dimmer
This memory
Of once having
been loved.
Was it real,
The feeling of fingers
Caressing my hair?
I think my memory
Is skewed, slightly
Broken, cracked.
There once was a a heartbeat
I heard in my ears
As i lay my head
On a bare
And naked chest.
I felt arms
Wrapped around me
And felt safe
And secure within that
Strange illusion
In all it fallacies.
And now,
Im all alone
Under these covers
With only my fingers
To run through my hair.