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Touch
Nothingness surrounds my entirety of
Being alive and I can’t feel happy or sad or
Feel the rainwater on my arms or
Any emotion, really
This state of being empty encircles my
Mind and removes me from reality into
Another life, one where he isn’t dead and
We are pulled together, attracted by a heliotropic energy
In which I am the sun and he is the flower, filled with
Beauty and grace; and he is the sun and I am the flower,
Feeding on his radiating energy and I can feel everything
But the tighter that dream wraps around my
Head the longer it will take for me to
Feel anything again, to feel the wind on my arms, the
Coarse cotton tickling up from the carpet that
Comforts me as I lie here, contemplating my
Role in life, now that I am in the dark,
Directionless without him here
It’s the little things I miss from
The touch of his fingers to the
Sensation of his bones colliding against mine
I miss him but I also miss the
Feelings of pure bliss and joy, even
Anger and fear I long to feel again
More than anything I
Want to feel again
So I push my head off the floor and
Sit up with my back against my
Bed, blood rushing to my head and
A feeling of relief takes me by
Surprise and without control I
Push myself onto my feet and
Open the transparent glass pane
Shielding me from the outside world
I cannot fathom being the level of transparency that
I once felt, as thin as this window,
As though anyone could look through me and
See how I suffered, yet somehow
They would get it all wrong
I reach my hand out the window and
The wind blows over me
Bringing feeling into my fingertips,
As if it’s the first time I’ve
Touched something all over again
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I wrote this piece about a year ago; it's a selection from a group of poems entitled Senses. Touch's beauty comes from its detail less on the sense of touch itself, but more on the absence of touch. I love this piece because it focuses on the duality of both emotional feeling and physical feeling, adding to the homonymic nature of the word "feel".