Touch Starved

I had always thought that I was an island.

A fortress,

Impenetrable and mysterious.

That I did not need the sweet affections of others to be whole.

But lately I find myself cast adrift.

The cracks are showing in the mortar.

I crave the simple touches of friends,

I need to be held, it seems, to be understood.

I am lonely on my island.

A rock in the middle a turbulent ocean.

I stand in my castle and stare out upon the desolate plains,

With only clouds for company.

I am waiting to feel the fingers of another on my skin,

And hoping it will make me whole.