Don't Touch Me

Don't Touch Me

Your fingers, soft and warm,

Yearn to trace my every form.

But I, a fragile vessel, fear,

The touch that might bring tears.

For wounds, both seen and felt,

Have left my soul so heavily knelt.

And though I crave your gentle hand,

I must protect what still withstands.

So please, respect my fragile state,

And let me heal, at my own rate.

For in time, I may find the grace,

To welcome you into my space.