in bed with nostalgia

I’ve been getting in bed with nostalgia
getting back to that old school lovin’
before my skin was molested by too many hands
that killed all sensation and left me like a prisoner
covering in myself in barbed-wire fencing
hoping it’d put you off wanting me

And the orgasm hits like a barely remembered dream
spilling out from beneath my skin to cover me in phosphorescence
and the memory of what it was like to be touched
by someone that loved me
though nowadays I’ll get into bed with any kind smile
and tongue brave enough to tell me I’m beautiful
like they mean it

‘Cause I’ve been playing the drowning songs again
just to remember the pain of my body in your arms
and how you could soothe my inner agony with the whisper of your words

Life felt simpler when love was all consuming
and sex wasn’t just the rhetorical metaphor of a teenage fantasy
before the loss of innocence

So, I’ve been getting back in bed with nostalgia
trying to relearn how to love myself though someone else’s hands
as though touch can save me from myself
though love ghosted out the door eons ago

© Indie Adams 2013