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
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 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)