Loosened Chains

It doesn't matter. Love, or lack thereof, is all in the mind.
You are the crevice of unbidden and unspoken secrets,
The deep end of a mini canal,
The shallow pit of the core.
You only dragged me once
But I lingered on the bottom for good,
Your hole, in particular.
And I believed, held my hands together
In a succinct orison, in honor of a wish,
In dedication to your success,
So that when I stretch out my hands
Once more
Someone will decide to reach for them, wildly, excitably.
But I hope to god those weren't
Your fingers running their tips on mine, anymore.
How could you let your wiles sever their links from me?