Hands..
That's what I feel...
Hands sliding
over my skin
Making my stomach turn
My skin crawl
I scrub and scrub
But I can still feel
His hands..
I don't like being touched..
Because I'm tainted..
Dirty...
And the feeling of hands on my skin..
Hurts..
The world goes dark..
My mind gets fuzzy..
And all I can remember.
Is the warmth of his hands
Running down the sides
Of my youthful body..
I seek comfort ..
From the feeling of hands..
Like a thousand needle sticks
Under my skin..
All I feel is his body spooning mine
Going to sleep alone..
Waking up with my underdeveloped curves
Pressed up against his body
I don't like to be touched..
No even a little..
Because all I feel is his hands.
YOU ARE READING
Through My Eyes.
PoetryThrough My Eyes is about my experiences. Some of them are dark some not so much. I'm writing this in hopes it helps someone.
