Poetry: The Touch of Thomas

She touched me
and I felt it
like a shock,
privately −

words deceive body,
articulate flesh as a concept.

the lights were harsh and a private glance in the mirror,
shook foil, industrial lightning;
I had no idea I was a man,
being only a boy.

and you never speak your secrets when I ask you,
instead you speak of BMX
bikes and cheerios,
your body never lying
when it lies close to mine.

I can tell you want to tell me everything, but your words never
express what your body has already revealed

and as I stood in the cold tiled bathroom,
harsh lighting, rubbing my raw thighs,
I was proud as blue veined china,
frightened as a raped girl.

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