Touch

Happiness.

Dare I claim,

back when we were companions.

Anger.

When you left,

as I rotted in the ground.

Now I know,

my pleasures displeased you.

I should have known.

But you loved me,

didn’t you?

Do not answer.

Quality time.

I craved

for us.

Compassionate words.

Flooding

our conversations.

Acts of service.

My pride gladly

in meeting your needs.

Giving items.

Tokens of thought

I learnt.

Physical touch.

Magic

opened up my heart.

Touch:

my language distorted, abused;

turned me sad and confused.

© Joel Yap