Your fragile arm lies inches from my fingertips,
Hairs lining the back of my neck stand guard
Against the battle of my body and my brain.
If I laid my hand atop your fingers,
Would you melt into them like a plastic spoon within flames?
Or would you yank them away and send glares of
Embarrassment through my veins?
I'm afraid to touch you; your delicate skin
Causes a full-system shut down if your arm merely brushes mine
Without a simple sorry.
I've fallen in love with hands I've never held,
And sculptured skin I'll never touch.
You are such a masterpiece- my touch
Would simply shatter you.