In Touch We Trust

My hand was not permitted entry for months

In the milky presence of her skin, no life or anything,

Not a single graze of the flesh to salvage in thought.

Station without a train or rail, no chance of going,

Isolated by the very arm it is attached to, chain

Voluntarily has no choice to move instructed by the brain,

Nervous system, tubes of blood, tendons, unjust,

Longing for the sensation, to touch it must,

In touch we trust.

By Ryan Anthony Gibson, November 28th 2009

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