Untouched

untocuched a burning craving ripples through my body, yearning for something to release it. A feeling of need consuming my soul. I get to wondering what it would be like, to surrender your heart and body to another. To feel the touch of someone’s hand in mine, to feel his hand brush through my hair. The deep soul changing ecstasy of love lifting two to be all they can. So the feeling lingers cause the longing is unquenched and unrequited. there’s no one to provide the sensation. No-one has even tried to seek the simple task of conversation so i remain untouched, wrapped in plastic, a glass doll left on a shelf with no true meaning of a broken heart or the depth of true love. No clue as to the world’s wonders.

so the yearning decreases for a while and I feel independent, kicking ahead with the challenges I face but the want returns and it creeps over me making me desperate for a man’s touch. I’m out of control and afraid I’ll forever feel myself lacking, always be the girl that’s not given a second glance, lost amongst the girls dressed to the nines, caked in powder and unnatural coloured faces. The one that retreats to a corner for solace and laughs nervously in fear or remains silent.

maybe I’m just a taboo, an unsolvable mystery to be left on a shelf for eternity with no one to touch her body, heart or soul.

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