I’m desperate to be held by you. I’m desperate to love. I’m desperate to know care and connection- it’s why I say so many empty words. Desperation. I press my hands on you and you step back. “Touch softy.” you tell me. I press my hands on you and you step back. How long ‘till I learn to love right, how long ‘till I learn to speak my heart to you, to anyone?





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