The desire for physical contact is uncanny;
An anvil pressed against my skin,
Waiting to be lifted by the touch
Of another human hand,
Fingertips graced with warmth,
Filled with felicity and touched
I feel untethered,
Flying from the earth,
A separate being from my body,
Unattached, unaccounted for,
Lost without the hug that ties me back to reality,
Without the soft kiss on the cheek that leads me back to the
Definition of what it means to be human.
For what is my humanity if not wasted
Without another hand in mine,
Holding me still in time.