I never would imagine, that touch would be more vital than living.
More sustaining than food, drink.
I was touched, only briefly.
But It happened.
I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the idea.
The voice more jarring than a foot pounding the break.
The eyes, righteously in demand.
Maybe it was the pounding.
Maybe it was the eyes, the glinting spark
that burn, more fiercely, than it capable of.
Or was it the need.
Or the trespassing that I allowed.
It has conquered me,
in the most sensitive way, that anything can be conquered
or hand to breast.
Lips to neck.
Or maybe it was just the company of your touch.
A riptide, turning me over violently.
But the touch.
and you knew thats all that was needed