TheriansONdA

Personally, I love to be touched. Not quickly or harshly, But slowly and gently. As if someone was trying to memorize every line, every hair… I love the contact, It sends a shock through my skin, Tingling, electrifying, shivering, A white, cool ice, twists around my spine and cradles my skull in static. It's like no other feeling. And it could be from anyone. My sister braiding my hair, A friend and his playful feather, The gentle scratch of pen on skin, It thrills me, And sends me into a momentary high, I completely understand, Why cats love to be petted.

I've known forever without knowing, I've felt her always without feeling, But why is it that I can't feel her, As close as I did before? I hear of shifts and meditative promises, Of wonderful dreams filled with fur and freedom, Why is it that I do not, Feel as close as I did before? I can feel her as if she's sleeping, Purring within my mind. Her tail twitching side to side, Her breaths softs and silent. I want to feel closer to this part of me, Just knowing she's there and suppressed, Is pure torture and anxiety, And surely a bitter test. I remember times, When wild behaviors went unnoticed, I fear she has been put under a