I love hugs.

I love a good cwtch.

I’ll cuddle up to you when we watch the telly.

Then all of a sudden it gets too much

like someone poking me with a hot iron rod.

Feels so good it’s like

someone forcing cake down your throat

instead of just eating a piece.

The ripples grow so big they impale me

and bounce off the walls.

I try to contain it

and think that this is different.

This isn’t the person who hurt me

it’s not happening anymore.

It doesn’t matter

the slightest touch tears me apart.

My hand comes out from the rapid

‘can we stop?’

I’m out and back on the shore

but the moment you touch me

I’m right there again.

I’m drowning, it’s an emergency

my every sensor going off.

I crawl away

the rapid is just drops now on my cheeks.

‘It’s OK, it’s OK.’

You say that I won’t drown.

You don’t know that

I’m like a forest after a fire.

The land is treeless, barren and bare.

On the surface it looks like the flames are gone

but inside

it’s still burning.