Sometimes - - -

Sometimes, just sometimes

I find that I am reaching out.

Sometimes I hold out a hand, or open my arms

And the silent call is answered.

But only sometimes.

And sometimes I am screaming inside

For the feel of human touch.

But that silent call is unheard,

So sometimes I am alone

Encased in a bubble of loneliness

That is strong, that is elastic

And cannot be burst.

Other times I am screaming

Silently

Inside myself

For the thought of touch is fear

And the feel of a human hand a burning pain.

Sometimes I am not reaching out,

Sometimes I am turning in

And recoiling from touch.

Sometimes the bubble of loneliness is not enough.

(c) 2ndwitch, 01/05/08