Tender

Touch. It's special. It's a conduit for the expression of the incommunicable. It is how bodies talk.
It is really but a reciprocative stream of thoughts that travels through and between the envelopes of the mind – bodies. For what is a feeling, but a slim layer of semi-controlled conscious thought resting on top of a potent sub-conscious thought/reason.

And that's why it is a big deal. You want some touches, you refrain from others; you savor some touches and regret the others. Their sheer power of revealing what you feel, in the moment, makes the person you are touching entirely aware of your intention. And the control that you exercise over the selective display of your being, is lost, for the duration of the touch.
Strong are those who are able to mold and alter their touch to conceal what they do not want the person being touched to sense.

Resisting a touch, or avoiding it, makes one miss the dangling sensation that one is left with after making/receiving a touch, like an afterglow of a conversation between bodies. Like a missed closure to a to-and-fro. Like a missed completion of an encounter.

The strange part is – with the same touch, you can express eroticism or care, anger or denial, gloom or wonderment, in the span of the moment. Provided, the other person is listening. One can know when the other is truly listening if the other understands the depth and the design of the touch.

I, for one, am defenseless against touch, as what is within me, travels through me. For me, Touch, is, without substitute, a perennial remedy for the lack of words.