Starved

Part of Interview with my Demons collection
I don’t like your hands on my skin.
At least that is what I taught myself to think.
I taught myself to flinch away.
To offer people my hand, instead of a hug.
I’m not the cuddly typ.
Brick by brick I built a wall around to keep people away from me.
So long until I let myself starve for attention.
I crave your touch now, but my skin has grown thorns.

And still … Please touch me.

Touch me.
Touch me.
Touch me.