A touch of fear
Hands caress.
Hair laid across skin.
Eyes closed.
I’m alone.
My hands seek warmth.
I find the floor.
They’d let me join.
My mind resists.
My eyes yearn.
My body against a pillow.
My hands work.
But not with them.
Physicality calls to me.
I try to feel.
I graze their hands, their hair, their skin.
My hands retract.
My heart beats fast.
Fear rises inside, I meet their eyes.
I’m scared.
Not of them.
But of me.
Scared of what?
My hands are free.
My body is cold.
My hair is on my shoulders alone.
I’m scared of myself.
I love their love.
But will their love stay true when they feel me too?
I restrain.
My hands, my eyes, my hair.
It stays with me.
I tell myself only one may feel.
The one I love.
The one who loves me.
But they love me too.
I wish I could be like them.
My hands with theirs.
But fear stops me.
I want to touch.
To feel.
To hold.
Yet my thoughts can hold only one.
