My Vase

"You can look but don't touch."
Those words pain me so much.
It's so hard to do such a thing.

You're so smooth, like porcelin.
I can't risit your soft skin.
You let me touch, but within, you scream.

As a delicate vase,
Is your elegant face.
I could never replace, that feel.

That feel of your jaw. Your cheek.
You look at me and don't speak.
On the inside, you shriek in fear.

I fear that I must refrain.
Though it may drive me insane,
I refuse to bring pain to you.