Untouched, Rachel French

Untouched By Rachel French

The last hands that touched me were unwelcomed. They left a mark on my soul and now when I think about my body it is tarnished. Violated, Vandalized. I can’t remember what yours felt like. As much as I want to hate you, I can’t help but long for the days when missing the way you touched me was the only memory my skin held. When I prayed to not feel My old love’s hands On the inside of my thigh Or his breath on the back of my neck

This isn’t what I meant - No longer untouched