When you touch me slowly,
I dismay of the remembrances.
Guilt violates my nerves, on the verge,
I felt an eruption in my heart.
Am I crazy to be overloaded with my past?
Every action of his makes me calm my loose,
His warmth is getting my existence undue.
I wish I could connect with him as I use to,
Things happen to my mind are changing me,
Being exploited by myself was the only thing I feared,
I am so stuck within my prior,
as a canvas left without lacquer.
And even when an artist arrives,
I implore him to go.