The Sinful Touch

On a day when the sun was casting its sharpest rays,

And I was drowning in the warmth of his gaze.

I touched him.

My hand trailing slow from elbow to fingertips,

Mapping his sinew, flesh with a sure, steady grip.

He froze.

Rooted to the spot,

As if stuck by heaven’s decree,

As if lightning had claimed him through me.

And the electric current that surged through his core,

Traced every line and contour I could not explore.

Cause he would never be mine.

But in that touch, 

I came to see —

I would carry the imprint of him endlessly,

Long after our paths had crossed,

Long after the sun had set on our sins.

Inspiration

The idea for this poem came when I accepted someone’s help to cross over a pool of water. I grasped their hand to cross-over, when I noticed the person hadn’t moved after helping me. They were rooted on the spot as if struck by lightning. 

Process

There are some rhyme schemes, but not much. Mostly stream of consciousness.