Touching the untouchable

Fingers brush the cold steel,

a quick trespass across a forbidden skin.

The rope—thin and trembling—holds the silence tight.

My pulse skips, warning bells riot beneath my ribs.

That cold edge scratches where no one should go,

a line drawn sharp in invisible chalk.

I pull back, but the shock lingers,

a jolt burned under my skin,

a secret I can’t unfeel.

Some things don’t forgive touch,

and some lines, once crossed,

keep bleeding quietly.