Soon after becoming sober I met a man who reintroduced me to the pleasures of touch. This poem is dedicated to him. Thank you Jermaine for the tenderness you’ve always shown me.
For too long I’d been deprived of touch. I’d given and given as much as I could without receiving anything in return, because it was the only way I could experience touch, which is so vital to my existence. I didn’t know how vital. I didn’t know I’d been starving all this time.
I’m sitting on my lovers lap. Chest to chest, skin to skin. His hands, so gentle carress my hair, my arms, my legs, my feet, my hips, my back. Initially I’m slightly rigid. Sitting very straight backed, not relaxed at all. As the touch continues, I feel myself relaxing, begining to enjoy the touch for what it is rather then getting excited for what is to come.
I feel myself melting. My muscles and joints start relaxing. I can no longer sit up straight, I put my head down on my lover’s shoulder and breathe. I find myself breathing, deep sighs, over and over. I lay there, silent, breathing, enjoying the touch, relaxing. And I thank god for this moment, this touch that has been brought into my life.