The Unintended Brush, Or, My Skin, Too Close

Just reaching for the soup,

same shelf, a sudden swoop

of someone's arm. And their sleeve,

it grazed mine. I could believe

I imagined it, almost.

But the static, a ghost

of pressure, still hums there,

on my forearm, an unfair

violation. I flinched, I know.

Small, barely a show,

but I felt it. The quick pull

back, making me feel dull,

or sharp, or just wrong.

It wasn't even strong.

Just cloth on skin. But my own,

it jumped. Like a boundary, known

only to me, had dissolved.

All my defenses, unsolved.

Just a grocery store, a reach.

But a lesson it will teach,

this sudden, cold, raw fright.

My skin, it feels too bright.