touch me; Please don’t

What is it to yearn?

I’ve learned that a touch, a caress

Can be the most painful of sensations.

This illustration of so-called affection,


Lustrcification, if you must.

I used to think loneliness was pain.

But now it’s

being touched in vain, I give you my skin

To obtain some illusion of trust.

[You] thrust as I look out the windowpane.

How I long to be touched, but not so much

By [anyone].

A ball of vomit falls in my stomach

At thoughts of [anyone] near

My naked body.

But I give to be touched.

My eyes roll back and [you] can pretend

It’s because of [you], but that’s not true.

I roll into my fantasy movie of innocence,

Being the Baby to [your] Swayze.

What a curse it is to long to be loved,

Knowing touches are crutches to weakness,

Cheap leeches of essence, they’ve stolen

The beauty of lust-swollen lips, languished.

If I seem prude, know that I’m not.

If I seem loose, know that I’m not.

I want


I really do.

I’m terrified of wanting YOU.

No, not them, I want YOU.

So I will touch and kiss and lick,

I’ll dominate the night with thick

Thighs of sighing bliss; I know how to touch.

I’ve longed to be touched how I touch,

But in the past,

It’s been too much to ask.

So I masked my sexuality with complacency,

Hoping one day I’d be touched with intimacy

Instead of sexual redundancy.

But fear is real. So real. Too real.

Please don’t touch me. I love you too much.

by Angela Castillo (2019)

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