I want to be embraced, but touch triggers me,

Because with touch comes vulnerability.

Touch has the power to lift you yet can destroy you if it's unwanted.

We touch to feel, but the longingness to feel something—a body that isn't yours--takes the good feeling away.

It breaks you.

Over and over again you try to train your mind to tell itself that every touch is not bad; every touch won't leave you crying on the bathroom floor asking why this happened to you.

Every touch won't deprive you of your appetite.

Every touch won't leave you numb like you are when you're reminded of the person who took it all away from you.

Every touch is not meant to harm you the way their touch did.

Every touch isn't meant to break you.

I want to be embraced, because it can make me feel safe

It tells me that I am understood—

Not a body for someone to conquer, but one to nurture.

To be embraced is to be loved—by someone, by something.

But when being embraced turns so quickly into being touched, the safety net disappears.

I want to find refuge in your touch, but touch triggers me.

Because with touch came the conquering of my body

With touch, I was left to pick up the pieces of myself, alone.

With touch, I lost sight of my own.

I want to be embraced, but touch triggers me.

Because I'm reminded of the unwanted ones.

I want to be embraced and touched by you, but it's hard to differentiate between the two

The good from bad- the nurturing from the conquering.

They say boys will be boys, but the parents who taught their boys to be boys, turned into men who left unhealed wounds

Touch triggers me, but I don't want it to.

I want to be loved by you.

My mind says to let go and let you.