I will smile in your face
A tinkle and a giggle for a brief moment
But only at a distance
Where I can stretch my arm
I don't feel your touch
I don't want your touch
I will just nod and smile, to anchor you in the hope that you clasp so tightly
Until your knuckles are turning white by helpless pressure
I slowly back away, babbling sweet nothings
And you reciprocate with a confused grin. You step closer
And I quicken my pace
Saying I have to feed my dog, I have a meeting in approximately 5 minutes, that I have a stomachache.
You open your mouth to express your condolences but I wave you away, wishing you would dissolve
Like the dust that I find under my bed
Instead you only make me grimace and cringe and curl my toes inside themselves
And they hurt.
I finally put up my hands, say, "Stop."
"Stop?" So bewildered, you are. "Stop?"
"Stop!" I repeat, louder. I grab my things, but I would gladly leave them if you tried to touch me again.
You're never touching me again.
I leave. I don't say goodbye.
And you don't say goodbye either.