i find myself unable to sleep,
crippled.
lost
confused
this anxiety riddles me with questions
memories
& fears.

i rememeber the first time you touched me
i felt needed
i felt at ease
i felt comforted
your hands felt like home
your words sounded like a song
i felt alive.
i felt love,
or atleast, what i thought to be love.

why did i find home in your hands?
why did your hands offer me a place my father never did?
why did my fathers hands feel like foreign land
and his voice sound like an empty room?
i found missing pieces of my father in you
in your touch
   your voice
   your laugh

the moments of touch felt like pleasure unleashed
but when you would leave
i would cry and try to scrub,
scrub my sins away
scrub my hate away
scrub the distaste away
scrub my own skin away,
because it felt foreign.

why did i find pleasure in sin?
why did i find joy in the pits of hell?
why?

why are you here again,
touching me.
loving me
searching for a release in me.

i should have said no,
but i never knew how to turn down love
or what looked like it.