A touch of a butterfly on Winnie the Pooh's nose.
A touch of a furry creature.
A touch due to curiosity.
A touch to a life.
The Touch of a hand.
Of two hands.
The playfulness of the Touch.
The feel of the Touch.
The inappropriateness of it all.
But the wanting of the Touch.
The feel of the Touch.
The feeling.
How it lingers.
How it still does until now.
A hold on to the wheel.
A hold to a glass.
A lasting hold of styling gel.
A hold to thought.
A hold of you.
The Hold of hand to arm.
The wish of the Hold of hand to hand instead of hand to arm.
The fear of the Hold of my sweaty palms.
The settling for the Hold of hand to arm or wrist.
The fear of the thought of Holding hands.
The Holding on to the memory of the Touch.
The going back to the Touch.
The wanting for the Touch to become a Hold.
The fear of dependence.
The lingering fear of dependence.
A cling of a monkey to a tree.
A cling of a baby to a mother.
A cling towards you.
The Cling of thoughts.
Oh how good the thoughts Cling.
The Cling to memory.
The wanting to forget.
The exhaustion of the wanting to forget.
The Cling that makes the scene repeat over and over again.
Over and over again until I feel that pain in my stomach.
The Grasp of idea.
The Grasping of the idea of impossibility.
The Grasping of the idea of a small window opening.
The window shutting up again.
The Grasping of the idea that everything is an illusion.
The Grasping of reality vs. expectations.
The Grasping of the idea of wanting to forget.
The Grasping of the idea of boredom.
The Grasping of the idea of repetitiveness.
The Grasping of the idea of distance.
The Grasping of the idea of transparency.
The fear of transparency.
The letting go.
The Grasping of the idea of the Touch, the Hold, and the Cling.
The Grasping of it all.
The Impossibility.
The Impossibility for now.
"That was hard for me to say, I hope I said it right. Whichever come what may, you see I need to know tonight."
