Touch

Scary but soft touch crawls my body.

The trust I have on you make myself unarmed. It comes from my little effort.

When I open my powerlessly closed eyes I find the dark eyes looking at me. It’s my fear that I made up just now.

I close my eyes again. The silence is rather more relaxing than asking something.

But I feel your hard coldheartedness.

I won’t touch it.

But I might touch it in my imagination.

There is a shielded wall that I can’t climb. It requires physical time and effort to be able to break it.

My desire and request get turned down by your accumulated experience and expertness, so the frustration surrounds my hands, legs, and eyes.

I got off of my path again, or I might be closer to it.