One of those (part 3)

my young skin

trembles with every touch

and I fear to feel

just in case I stir

and remember those grey days

 

I could not receive

a kiss on the neck

or an intimate embrace

with my breathing being this way

never undo my buttons

 

or let your hand stray

because I am ten times

more vulnerable

than you think I could be

and I have to stare up at your ceiling

 

and refuse to use the language I am supposed to

and I know it is too late

and my eyes dart between the cracks

in the paint to stay awake

and alert to the moon in my heart

Reviews

[Dani]

I love the final stanza. Perhaps not in the same situation, but I've felt myself doing the same thing. Fantastic write.