Photo by DICSON on Unsplash

Sometimes you just want to be touched



Hair entangled between fingers


Bitten on your lower lip


As fingers run down your back


Your body, used as a blanket




And if you can’t touch me

I’ll write about it

So words can be the escape valve

And breathe into life when you speak them

To regulate the heartbeat

To quiet down the desire



Photo by Marcus Woodbridge on Unsplash

I don’t feel like it

I don’t

I don’t feel like carrying my skin, flesh, and bones

They are heavier today than on other days

I don’t feel like it

I don’t feel like writing

I don’t

I’ve fought with my muse and

We are giving each other the silent treatment

I don’t feel like it

I don’t feel like being nice

I don’t

I just want to tell people that what they’re saying is stupid

and that it is not important in the grand scheme of things

I don’t feel like it

I don’t feel like staying like this forever

I don’t

But today, I just want to avoid perky people

Run away from most people who require something of me

Hit balls against walls

That’s what I feel like