Letting someone touch me
is like dancing with the devil.
The way I flinch
whenever someone
goes to touch
me
or the way
I have to try and train my
brain that the
boy that is holding me
at night now isn’t trying
to choke me when he
moves his hand around
my face -
all reminds of a
duet dance the stumbling
and passion.
Touching me
in the slightest is like
balancing on our toes to tango
and I hate
that my past still haunts me to this
day and I think that everyone in my
room with an outstretched hand has
a gun behind their back and
that at any moment a
sweet encounter
could be something else.
Something
terrifying,
a reminder of why
I don’t trust guys
and why I’m so desensitised
to the violence - why
don’t my eyes close and
let me snooze or drift into a
place where I cannot be hurt?
I am an adult
that is
learning to trust and to love
from the start again -
learning the basics
of human connection and
communication and
sometimes I wish you
could see through my eyes
just to realise
how dark the other side
really is.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
Letting someone touch me
is like dancing with the devil.
The way I flinch
whenever someone
goes to touch
me
or the way
I have to try and train my
brain that the
boy that is holding me
at night now isn’t trying
to choke me when he
moves his hand around
my face -
all reminds of a
duet dance the stumbling
and passion.
Touching me
in the slightest is like
balancing on our toes to tango
and I hate
that my past still haunts me to this
day and I think that everyone in my
room with an outstretched hand has
a gun behind their back and
that at any moment a
sweet encounter
could be something else.
Something
terrifying,
a reminder of why
I don’t trust guys
and why I’m so desensitised
to the violence - why
don’t my eyes close and
let me snooze or drift into a
place where I cannot be hurt?
I am an adult
that is
learning to trust and to love
from the start again -
learning the basics
of human connection and
communication and
sometimes I wish you
could see through my eyes
just to realise
how dark the other side
really is.
writing about how ******* up I am from my ex that I cannot stand being touched now
