These moments between time are so fleeting and ethereal.
Almost not of this world,
But not out of it either.
Though, my skin never forgets
The ghostly caresses and ectoplasmic digits that cross dimensions and invade my body,
That I sense without a single touch on this limited physical plane.
I feel you tongue the parts of me that fold inwards, out of their sight, but fully within yours.
You see me when I can’t. When no one else does. You always see me.
You touch me when my fingers tingle from a numbness spreading like gauzy spiderwebs across a vacant attic.
Your touch is my own, from the inside out, from the outside in.
No one touches me like I do.