Touch
I miss the excitement,
I miss having arms around me,
As our laughs twirl through the air;
I miss the way a touch can speak, when words aren't
enough,
How hands become artists,
Painting my body,
From head to toe,
Caressing my face,
Tracing my spine;
It made me feel alive;
But now,
I'm scared of being touched, And not because their touch hurt, But because of how much it hurts,
When their touch stops.