touching time

I need to be touched on a primitive level

It heels me in ways I could not explain

Especially when I could not define

Where my need came from or why

Over the years it gradually came to me

That touch in my childhood was violent

There was no tenderness or loving hands

My single source of comfort came

From my stroking the fur of an animal

Who like me were trapped with families

Who could not understand their wildness

Or their need to be touched with kindness

As I grew the sexual touch of boyfriends

Replaced what should have been the platonic

And loving touch from a mothers gentle hand

I did not resent the interactions I never had

When I saw mothers sweep hair off foreheads

Or snuggle sick or frightened children close

Who curled beside parents and inside open arms

It was so completely foreign to me I recoiled

And in the sexual touch of puberty replaced it

With the need to be touched by a man for everything

It aroused me, soothed me, excited me and calmed me

Inside a lovers arms I felt wanted and loved

The rejection and maternal hatred I felt radiating

Dissipated when I received the attention elsewhere

It’s not the same when I give it to someone

As much as it helps and is wanted it’s different

When an animal or man touches me instead

I feel tension drain and muscles relax into it

I calm down and open up my heart to them

I need to be touched by hands that want me

And it’s been a driving force behind all I do

And everyone I end up interacting with for it

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