Poems That I Form

Touched

I remember cold hands,
Whispers of supposed love.
They crawled all over my body,
Twistingpullingpushing
Touching,
Please stop.
Just stop.
The cold hands didn't stop until they got what they wanted.
The boy who whispered words to me
Went silent after the fact that I was now cold.

I can still smell the moment;
Morning breath and tears and anxiety.
The sound of him and a movie going off in the background.
I was shaking.
I couldn't say anything.
Instead,
The cold hands just kept
Touching.

It's been a year,
I am still scared of someone
Twistingpullingpushing,
Touching.
But he's gone.
He's gone and instead for a while,
I've felt hands of warmth.
Love.
Care.
I could melt into the touch,
I could hear whispers
Instead of vile morning breath
There was mint

And they said sweet nothings
Not vulgar words.
They held me.
They cared for me.

I still feel the cold hands once in a while.
At night,
In my dreams,
In my head.
But I also remember that the warm hands are around my body
And I am safe,
Loved,
Touched.