Sarah fier's cursed hand by Houston Sharp
He says, come closer, I won't bite
And I graze my anxiety over the bite marks on my heart
He withdraws slightly
And I hold off completely
Is this normal? He asks
I say it's all I've ever known
For he tries to hold me, and I recoil
Like a millipede sensing danger
His warm touch is all I crave
Yet his cold hand is all I anticipate
I don't know when I became like this
So anxious and avoidant that all I ever do is run
As all I want is to be held so tightly
Yet I wiggle and squeal if the hold goes on for too long
Uncomfortable in a warm embrace
Yet, discontented with the coldness of my sheets
I ask him to give me time
Time to warm up
Time to disarm
And I worry that time is all l lack
As the moment I reveal my hand, he leaves, and I'm cold again
No hand to hold me
No one to cradle me
And I regret ever letting him touch me
And when the next one comes and asks if he can touch
I bite his hand off before he can scratch
