Touch

Touch me—

I am for show;

My body is not mine.

Touch me—

And I will be beautiful;

As if I was made for you.

Touch me—

And the lines that separate

I from you are blurred.

Touch me—

I might look more beautiful,

Blurred and pale from your rough hands.

Touch me—

And I am faded,

The charcoal that makes my

Supernal curvature is smeared.

Touch me—

And I am an apparition of myself;

Barely there at all,

Save for the place where your hand meets the paper. 

Touch me—

And look what you have done.

I am non existent.

You have made me part of you,

I am only the charcoal on your fingers. 

Touch me—

I am for show;

My body has never been mine. 

Touch me, so I can disappear.