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.