I remember your touch as abraiseive
A means to an end
Never an end in itself

It made me feel like I needed to hurry up
That my body was meant to be rushed
For the expense of others
It made me accept a touch that was mechanical
Devoid of a tenderness a 6 y/o deserves
To come to understand and experience
From the hands of their mother

It made me engrain and learn to accept that my body was a means to an end
Never an end in itself

I’m doing the tough work now
I’m trying to discover and unlearn and learn again but differently than the last