I remember what it feels when you touch me.
Just holding your hand of course is like a baffled comforter in a cold room.
And when you console me to make it all better arms around me in your kitchen, so perfect that I can’t be so close to you. Not then. It takes my breath.
But what makes me weak,
Closing my eyes and feeling your perfect fingers on my neck, casual, close,
With no way to hold you back
To give you an echo, a sign, return,
So just stand there
While you touch me.
Like you’ve never touched a woman.
Belied by truth, my mind believes your perfect fingers.
Caressing my neck, the first time you’ve touched a woman.
The first time I’ve been touched.
I can close my eyes and feel it right now.
I want it to be true.