Starved for Touch

It has been...3 years, 6 days, 23 hours, and 5 minutes since a finger lingered...

on my skin

since a hand brushed unhurried through my hair

since someone took their time

with me

felt unhurried with me

and just wanted to trace the patterns

of me

We are at all times whorls and dips and raised edges and valleys and peaks

empty coloring books and unfinished pictures

"Can you finish the picture?"

because there's nothing more empty...

than a child's half-finished coloring book...

full of dashed lines for tracing

and the space between the outlines to lay the color.

Thick brown pages

recycled and rough and

partially covered in the sweet residues of innocence and when times were good

pages filled to bursting with colored pencil lines and crayon and the dotted half of ice cream cones filled in

and then it just...

ends...

the pages go unfinished

the dotted lines remain

not whole

and the coloring book

its thick brown pages

its color...

fade

and curl

left with steadily bleaching memories of the sweet times

the times when...

it has been

3 years. 6 days, 23 hours, and 7 minutes since I last knew touch...

and holding myself together

doesn't count