Touch starved.
I like to think that i like physical touch, but i keep avoiding the fact that i crave the touch from another person than myself.
not the kissing.
not the sex.
but the hand holding.
the slow hands interlock, fingertips meeting,,
the warm embraces of another.
the welcoming arms, their soft laughter.
i wish i had shown more affection to others, maybe then..
i wouldn't be craving touch from someone other than me.
the dark nights i spend drowning in my bed, my mind.
own arms wrapped around me, as if it was anyone else's than my own.
YOU ARE READING
Unknown words
Poetrya trashy poem book filled with words i've stocked up in my brain for too long.
