Sensitive

The touch of others

Disgusts me today;

I don't know how to tell them

That their leg brushing mine as we

Sit in the car beside each other

Makes my stomach

turn and my skin burn.

I was never good at saying

The things I think in my head,

I'll gently pull my limbs closer to me

To avoid contact or conflict,

Their hand will still brush my thigh

Reaching for something sitting

On the seat between us;

I'll pretend my skin forgets

The feeling of someone else.