What a difference a touch can make                                                             ­     make  a man feel loved or a heart break                                                            ­   It  can  shatter dreams, destroy a life                                                  can  bind  a couple as man and wife                                                             ­ Can  soothe  a child, put him to sleep                                                       with  a handshake, a promise to keep                                                            with  a caress ,it can be welcoming                                                        A  touch  can mean  so many things                                                          It  can cause  a pulse to race                                                             ­ or  can  feel  as good as a warm embrace                                                          ­       It  can  speak  words when none are said                                                             ­                                          leave  a  lasting impression at best

I arrived barefoot
tongue heavy with borrowed syntax
eyes trained on the flicker between gestures
the way a hand hesitates before reaching
the way silence folds itself into a question.

I mistook bruises for constellations
mapped them across the skin like ancient routes
each one a pilgrimage
each one a failed translation.

I thought pain had grammar
that longing could be conjugated
into something less feral.

the heart is not a scroll.
it does not unroll neatly.
it bleeds through the margins
smudges the ink
laughs at the scholar in me
who still believes in clarity.

I touched someone once
and felt their grief like static
a hum beneath the ribs
a Morse code of everything unsaid.

I tried to decode it
but the symbols kept shifting
love became hunger
hunger became apology
apology became a door
I could not open.

I am still learning
that some hieroglyphs are meant to be lived
not read.
that some wounds speak in tongues
only the body understands.
that to be human
is to misinterpret
and keep interpreting
until the ache becomes a kind of fluency.

to me,
words mattered
more than acts.
you could pull me close
with a single sentence.
the right phrase,
muttered ever so soft,
could mend
what a kiss could not.

my mind doesn’t care
for big gestures.
they don’t keep me
up at night.
the way you said,
i’ve never had
a real conversation
with her
the way we have,
however, might.

there's this need --
in my heart..
wait.
no.
it's my soul.

my soul is the one
that has this
need..
it's oh so strong
and keeps returning.

there's this
deep ache
and craving
for the physical touch
in a way
i don't get everyday.

my soul
craves
to hold someone
in a way
thats indescribable.

my soul
craves
to be held
by someone
in a way
that makes me heal
from inside out.

it's not even
manageable anymore.

it's taking over me,
the feeling washes over
in red and blue --
craving more
and more
each time.

Vividly emblazoned in my mind is you the most beautiful body of work. Wanting nothing more than to write the sweetest arias about the depths of your heart.

Fingertips mapped constellations
where words dared not go,
and the night became a river
pulling us deeper, slower,
where time dissolved into touch.

Your kisses speak a language of velvet and fire, rewriting the silence between us, as you taught me the rhythmof surrender and return.

The world slipped away
when your lips met mine,
a hunger, a prayer,
a thousand sparks bursting into endless flames lit up my night like fireworks.

I opened my third eye
and we fell into eternity
As your body pressed against mine,
the rhythm of our shadows
dancing against the moon light.

The vision of you on replay
body to body cheek to cheek
heat pooling between us
like a secret too heavy to keep.
As you buried your secrets deep into me.

A first encounter turned into to soul binding acclimation
Your mouth was claiming the taste was sweet. Like lightning and thunder forming against the night sky.
The deeper you pulled me and I crashed harder into you until the sweetest cries broke from me like a prayer.

The feel of every gasp a confession,
every shiver a vow, every gaze a promise, every kiss a reminder and every taste a claim.

As we reached the peaks of mountains together our bodies sang songs of old and new turning into fire
burning, breaking, booming
two hearts lost and found again
in the oldest language of desire.

Two souls apart from all the crowd,
in love and hate, both fierce and proud.
Through beauty’s light and sorrow’s rain,
we cling through joy, we cling through pain.

For in thine eyes, my truth I know,
and neither heart will let it go.
Thine eyes hold truths no stars could hide,
a mirror deep where my heart abides.

No chain of earth, no hand of time,
could break the bond that makes thee mine.
We keep this fire, this hallowed whole—
and drink forever from each other’s soul.

...

Some touches feel like a gentle, steady rain,  
Washing away sorrows and nurturing us to heal.  
Others strike like a sudden gust of wind,  
Knocking you down, leaving you lost, without glancing back.  
Then there’s the enchanting snow, soft and light at first,  
Yet it quickly hardens into spirit-crushing ice.  
I find comfort under a warm, weighted blanket—  
A familiar source of solace, always there when I need it.

I promise to only run my hands
along the length of your body, just for a moment.
I will gather all the memorable parts of you
the first time,
so I don’t waste the grace you’ve given me.

I will let my hands explore
the best of you—
so that when I’m asked
how I imagine the universe was created,
I can mold a lump of clay
into the mountains and valleys
your hips draw from.

I’ll sketch the bareness of your flesh
as it was in the light—
soft, springy,
yielding beneath my touch.

And now,
I will speak acceptance
into the space between us,
for the thought of never touching you again
is a promise I must keep.

The sky broke open, soft and slow,
And I stood there, not caring to go.
Raindrops whispered your name on my skin
That’s when I knew where love begins.

You didn’t hold an umbrella that day,
Just my hand, in your quiet way.
And I swear, the world stilled around,
While our hearts made the only sound.

It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t grand,
Just your touch, your eyes, your rain-soaked hand.
No promises, no lines to say
Just love, in the purest, simplest way.