poem: "Touch"

[belenen]

I've been touched like a security blanket;
clutched, clung to, squished up and dragged,
rubbed,
wrung for drips of comfort.

I've been touched like a pump dispenser;
just enough to produce results, efficiently,
buttons pressed,
manipulated for easy pleasure.

I've been touched like a pet;
absent-mindedly, mechanically petted,
as requested,
as though a pelt and not a living being.

I've been touched like a feral creature;
tentatively, rarely,
a placating gesture
with no desire.

I want
I want
I want to be touched like the familiar sacred;
a talisman, a touchstone,
a treasured carving
held reverently, closely.

I want
I want
I want hands on my skin,
fingertips like tiny tongues
tasting my candy skin hungrily.

I want
I want
I want examination, exploration
to be cherished in texture and shape,
in my softness and points,
every curve and crease,
no part unnoticed.

observe me
intimately