Hallowed Ache of Touch

Written: November 15, 2025

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I am no feeling thing—  
a moribund pastiche  
of dulled mornings,  
threadbare in soul,  
writhed into silence.  

No reason.  
No why.  
Just the torque of transience  
grating against my sacred sapidity,  
a palimpsest of vanished warmth.  

Someone—  
pinch me past this paucity.  
I need your touch,  
your rubicund ripple  
to resile my wilted mettle.  

Let your finger feel  
be my panacea,  
a seraphic catharsis  
to evanesce this numb imbroglio  
where even grief feels distant.  

Come—  
at your behest,  
I will abase my hubris,  
prowl through the seraglio  
of memory’s panoply,  
and rake through the riparian dusk  
for one scintilla of you.  

Let me feel again—  
not the panoply of pain,  
but the luster of being,  
the emollient ache of presence,  
the dulcet burden of love.

charactercute loveemotionstruefree verse

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