Touch

Touch me, let me feel it, I don't care what. If it's friendly or sensual or passive. If it's the way we melt together when we sit side-by-side in a theatre seat, or seeing how warm your hands are to my chilly ones. I don't care, but like I said before I crave touch, because I'm so very human. A pat you on the back or to give you a hug, or to shake your hand after an interview. Humans were born to touch, or else we wouldn't have such sensitive skin, we'd just be DRY and CRACKLING like an iguana, tough like the reptiles and shielded like the other mammals. No, we need touch to survive, to just be. We have a need for reeling, heady, pleasure just like we have a need for comfort and are. Why else would the same muscles we use to strike a blow be used to soothe with a caress? Sometimes I have a desire to kiss, to simply hold on and never let go because the touch of skin makes my nerves leap and keeps me going. We need to feel, we need to have that. Or at least I do. It's all I can do to keep myself from reaching my hands out sometime. It's like I need to make sure you're really there, and that you're really real.