Touching you is like
a quick close sweep of
fingers across skin
warm and smooth like
your expression unaffected
as if I were barely there at all.
Your eyes dark and bright
and never looking down on
me but over my head to
someone else to anyone else
to you I might have never touched
you at all never and
your skin
is gold just slightly gold
even under the ugly florescent lights,
and I want you too
much
I want you like I want to
spill your name in a scream and
Run running run run run never stop,
because I can never distance these
feelings and it is like ripping out
every piece of me and offering
myself to you yet
yet—
Touching you
is like
indifference like rejection touching you
is inhaling all the dreams that I can
never afford touching you is
touching you is the worst thing that
I have ever done but here I am
palms pressed against
your skin in greeting
anyways.