Touch

And when you touch, is it that you touch? Or is it just some place to place pieces of yourself? And when you feel, is it really that you feel, or somewhere to take your emptiness to, to justify yourself, to ease you, to salve that place within yourself, that historically, has learnt that this must be done, that it is convention, that it is expectation. And is it really your truth? Or is it just a way to become in a moment? And they say that it is all in the eyes, but eyes can wink and can be blinkered. And there is someone standing next to you, watching and listening to you, and he watches you until you betray, and then you are gone, and he takes a backwards glance at all of your words and actions, and he stills, and then he moves, and no matter how far or how much he moves sometimes, he cannot escape, that moment that you captivated in, with you. And you, who were you anyway? And the nerve? And the way that you felt that you could use. And did you realize about hurt? And did you think about tomorrow? In this time when you were free from freedom, in a time of libertine glory.