"Touch me," I whisper,
but he only touches my body,
rough, raw hands.
He doesn’t understand
that I meant touch me
the way that first gasp
kisses your lips
when you see something shocking.
Touched
like an old library book,
spine cracked, pages worn thin
by someone lost in my chapters.
A touch that isn't just
tingles on my skin,
but that extra thump
every time my heart dares to beat
like yours is superimposed on mine.
I want a touch that feels
like maybe I could do
all the things
I always told myself I couldn’t.
I want to feel:
seen,
safe,
secure,
not just fingertips,
not just tongues.
I want to be touched so deeply
we could swim inside it,
maybe get pulled under,
dragged below through the oceanic abyss
together.
But I wear a suit of spikes
to keep their touches away.
They don’t mean a goddamn thing anyways.
Puddles can't satiate my thirst.
About the Creator
Lolly Vieira
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself.
I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
https://linktr.ee/lollyslittlelovelies
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Standing While Falling
Quotation from Friedrich Nietzsche "He who wrestles long with monsters should beware lest he himself become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Man is not destroyed by suffering, but by the meaning he makes of it."
By LUCCIAN LAYTH7 days ago in Critique
Comments (1)
So much longing in those lines, and then those spikes stab you out of nowhere. Well written!