Touch Me, Just Touch Me


You know it's gone,
don't you?
You know you could have gone
all my life
without saying that.
Of all things that could have passed your lips,
you chose to say what I least wanted to hear.
I thought with you it would be different.
You'd understand.
That you,
of all people,
would know such an explanation
was superfluous.
I thought you understood.
I thought you knew.
And yet,
I can blame only myself
for not saying,
in so many words,
the things that were unnecessary.
But if I had done that,
it would be the same as now.
In the way I needed you most,
in the only way you could have,
you failed me.
Or I failed me.
Or something.
I'm sorry,
and I'm tired,
so very,
very,
tired.
Forgive me my shortcomings,
and try to remember me with half the warmth
by which I remember you.
Please touch me…
Just touch me…
Oh God,
I'm gone again.

W. James Beard, Jr.