T o u c h e d

Touch has a memory consoles the poet of old

But what if your lovers touch has grown cold?

It's no comfort to recall both night and day

How the ghost of his hands upon you'd lay

Layers of decades slowly they've shed

But memories lie dormant in your head

Images parading your befallen mind

Fingers that gingerly traced you behind

Ode to when you surrendered your soft skin

It seems you can never be untouched again

A sacrifice you've delivered to he who had vice

Giving all innocence to his whispered entice

Touch has a memory and it won't ever leave

You wear it forever like a heart on your sleeve

Never to retrieve, the touch you bereave