Her hands....
Her hands wander
Innocently
Touching me
Hand tracing
My skin
And my skin
Deprived of touch
A soul that has starved
Of affection
For so long
Fingers sending euphoric shocks
Throughout my body
I'm starving
My soul is starving
My body is starving
Of touch
YOU ARE READING
The therapy session
PoetryThe anxiety can't win against this paper and pen. An unscheduled therapy for me to write, and others to read. These words are raw, my thoughts are deep. When I can't sleep, I often write.
