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  • Evie Wilder

Instinct

Sanity is someone's hands on me

It can be rough, it can be calm; as long as our skin meets


A finger on my cheek

A palm against my palm


It could be my head

on your chest

It could be a grip

on my breast


Thumbs kneading my feet

After a long, hard week

Our legs intertwined

With courage named whisky and wine


It's a deep-seeded need

To have somebody touch me


Just a simple wrap

their arms around my back

Would take me through

a day or two 


Or if you want to see me

Strong for a week

Let me feel you feel me feel you 

Underneath the sheets


You call it an addiction,

I call it instinct. 

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