Her eyes are pure stars, and her fingers, if they touch you, freeze you to the bone.

"Stealing touches throughout the day, your warm skin against mine. Fingers brushing one another in passing. Sometimes the lightest touch, others the firmest grasp. And everywhere your fingers touch leaves flames in their wake."

I will only let you touch me if your hands are so full of intention that every brush of your palms feels like you writing a novel on my skin.

As members of human society, perhaps the most difficult task we face daily is that of touching one another - whether the touch is physical, moral, emotional, or imaginary. Contact is crisis. As the anthropologists say, "every touch is a modified blow."

I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break.