by Germond Akome

DON’T TOUCH ME.
I DETEST THE WAY YOU MAKE MY SKIN
TINGLE EVERY TIME YOU BRUSH
AGAINST ME.
DON’T TALK TO ME.
I LOATHE THE VERY SOUND OF YOUR VOICE
THAT SEEMS TO CARESS ME
AND MAKE ME LONG FOR MORE.
DON’T LOOK AT ME.
I ABHOR YOUR GLANCE THAT MAKES
THE PAIN IN MY STOMACH ALL THE MORE
INTENSE.
DON’T GIVE ME ANYTHING.
EVEN THE SIMPLEST GIFT FORCES ME
TO YIELD MYSELF TO YOU.
STAY AWAY FROM ME.
I DON’T EVER WANT TO LOSE MY IDENTITY.