IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT MY FAN BLOWS COLD AIR IT MAKES THE HAIR ON MY ARMS TIGHTEN AT THE PORES AND I SHIVER AS IF YOU HAD JUST TRICKLED YOUR HANDS DOWN MY ARMS AND WHENEVER SOMEONE TOUCHES ME I HOPE IT'S YOU TOUCHING ME BUT IT NEVER ******* IS THE FAN IS THE CLOSEST THING I HAVE LEFT OF THE REMEMBRANCE OF YOUR TOUCH AND JESUS **** I WOULD **** FOR YOU TO JUST TOUCH ME WITH YOUR HANDS AGAIN