I don't really like to be touched, by anyone really.
It makes me feel ***** and uncomfortable.
There are days when, all I want to do is wash my body with bleach because I can't stand the way their skin feels.

Some days, I can handle hugs.
Some days, I crave to be cuddled.
But the feeling of his skin against mine,
made me crave more than a hug.
I found myself dreaming to be tangled with him.
Not with white sheets within the walls of his room, but with the calluses of his palm meshing with mine.
I miss his hugs.

He described my eyes with words
I cannot spell.
My boring eyes.
He reads me like an open book,
he said my eyes get bright and sparkle when I'm happy,
and dull when I'm sad.

His life is a highway, constantly busy
while mine is a old dirt road.
I'm sorry that your highway is always filled with passing people.
-A.U