Touching Skin

I'm touching skin.

I'm touching life.

This bed of grass tingles my outsides.

My fingers graze the tops,

as the breeze blows every which way.

I'm touching skin.

I'm touching life.

I'm touching the delicate wings of a butterfly.

It moves to the sway of life,

as the sounds of life teach it to dance.

I'm touching skin.

I'm touching life.

I'm holding your hand in the night.

It squeezes mine tighter when I lose faith,

as the sounds of life seem to scream and complain.

I'm touching skin.

I'm touching life.

The outside seems warm but the inside stays silent.

I'm touching skin.

I'm touching life.

It's all I feel.

the inside seems to leave me feeling empty.

The inside. Is it even real?

I'm touching skin.

I'm touching life.

My only desire is to touch the soul.

the soul.

the soul.

I'm touching skin.

I'm touching life.

I'm touching skin.

I'm touching life.