my non-love
i want you to hold me
with out touch.

there's a full blown rain storm
matting down my hair
in drips like spit
and thoughts,
there i sit.
crouched over
in her shower
with the handles i can't turn
finding i love
her bathroom,
her towel,
her touch.

a beautiful woman wraps her arms tight around me and through me in licks and twist to bleed if we can help it. she over-indulges my vanity, my nakedness wet and crying is met with praise and compliments and comfort food of mashed potatoes with the skins left on.