Touch.

It means everything to me.

It means feeling my mother's warmth

surrounding me when everyone was cold

and neglecting me.

It means feeling the smooth, cold wood of drum sticks

as I twirl them to escape my world.

It meansfeeling the walls of my heart pound against my ribs,

trying to escape with all my pain,

taking my breath away,

leaving me bruised.

Touch makes me appreciate my father's hands,

for all the work they do to support us.

Touch allows me to feel in more than a two demensional way.

It means being able to remind myself,

I am alive, I am breathing, I have brittle bones, and my veins are endless lines.

It means feeling this body deterioarate with me still trapped within it.