there's a storm raging
outside and one on the inside.
the worst seen
in seven years, they say.
but all i can think about
is you're 151 kilometers away
and i hope i hope i hope
the wind that touches me
has touched you first
on its way here.

Senses enchanted
You make dreams reality
Inspiring friction

you liked my body,
yet rejected my mind.

I craved conversation,
yet you desired touch.

I shared my thoughts,
yet you shared unsolicited provoking pictures.

you wanted secret hookups at midnight,
yet denied picnics at noon.

and yet, I still thought you were different.

you,
gentle beast
touching my skin like King Midas

me,
excavating your iced eyes and
devouring them raw with tenderness
and overindulgence

Here I am again
trying to make you think
that i am fine
and well I am.
Except for one little thing...
I haven't touched another persons skin
in weeks.
And yes, I feel lonely
even though that loneliness might be more of a skin hunger.
You have no Idea how much I long
for a gentle embrace.
In fact I don't even know it myself.
The feeling is trapped deep inside of me
and I can only feel it
when my walls are crumbeling to pieces
and i am left naked in the dark.
But this feeling has been haunting me for years.
A strange obsession with vulnerability,
I just want to be held and cared for.
I want to be able to show you my naked soul
and I hope you will see the beauty in it.
I hope you will caress me
and soothe the deep longing in my heart.
But I can't even talk about that part of me,
it feels way to vulnerable
so poetry is the only way
to give it a voice.

You’re a heavy hitter
and I’m just a runner
afraid of getting tagged out
so I avoid the other players
and their neutralizing touch.
I don’t have a proper stance
hands drowning in my pockets
to avoid a strike zone
shoulders wide.

The force
field of romance
rebukes all contact
causing loneliness
limited to lying
low in the dirt
dour and hurt.

So I avoid your touch
to avoid your warmth
to avoid your essence
because I’ve learned enough lessons
to know on the other side of your silk skin
lies my skeleton.

My fingers will form barbs
that will cling to your hand
and sink into your skin
until you see my sin
is in holding on
and your presence is my prison
I’d commit crimes to remain in.

Your face is the Behemoth
that roams my mind.
Your words are the Leviathan
that swims through my blood.
God loves both of these creatures
despite their destructive force
He transposes that love into me
yet when I approach them
I am gnashed in the teeth
of a gargantuan beast.

Now it begins with the ocean - blue,
the heart of which
lies not in itself
but in the lapping waves,
foaming away at her feet.
Soundlessly calling.