“Touch has a memory”


A softer sensation than nails in fences,

Yet one that condemns touch-me-nots,

Like fingers through hair, fingers in fingers

Twined like the bushel of blushing primrose

In the bloom.


When tips on tips, with pulse or without,

Are incident, a bridge laid, a line drawn

Between that or those by seas separate.

Welcome into life newer change,

Heavenly debts incurred.


The timid timbre of a new approach,

Trading trembling fingers, souls anxious to bridge

With a person, a book or a tomorrow.

Assurances for more, certitude of

Hope and better


The desiring heart confounds with nervous

Instruments of touch that are tasked with

The initial embrace. But to hold, behold

Futures in foreign touch—uncertain fodder

For a soul craving


Promises not found in the calming of unfelt

Goosebumps that compound uncertain fear.

But, O hearts, balance yourself; the flames of panic

And the winds of hope in isolation buffet

Around the other


Fanning stormy fire. In silent touch

Pinpricked tickles of warmth and care may be,

Unseen but true. Let inhibitions cry havoc and

Slip invisible fetters—wrap fingers, bones, nails,

Skin et al, around rails in darkness

That pull you forward.



The photo is taken from Arnaav Bhavanani’s album “metro.pol : nyc”.

Follow him at



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