Kyrielle
No touch
A Rogue Poem
Rush of warmth and soft skin touch.
I shall never know your hand's clutch.
Wanting you to be loves immerse.
A powerful gift, my true curse.
Gloves of black and tops of dark green.
The opposite of Little Miss Jean.
Her upbeat glow makes me feel worse.
A powerful gift, my true curse.
And yet, you turn to look my way.
You smile at me and my knees sway.
The world is thrown into reverse.
A powerful gift, my true curse.