She touched me

She touched me
and altered my being.
Life throws us curves
it thinks we can handle,
Breaking hearts
and shattering roots
in its wake

She impressed her own turmoil
upon my childish existence
maintaining a level of
rejuvinated misery.

The act of her affliction
bleeding on me
did drown my
virgin reality.
Nights now filled with
baseless terror
pervading the darkness
leave me so tired.

I am unable to rest my mind,
free the quintessence
of who I am
and I wait for the ache
to fade out
of its essence
to turn steal back
to silver linings
all stolen from me
by her

This child now standing
here alone
in my loathsome trepidation
of who I have become
by her definition
that almost no once can touch
because
she touched me

© 2000 Butch Maxwell

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