they touch
not deep enough to feel.
their love,
a show of lust.
nor sit them down
to taste a meal,
in haste
but dip the crust.
they skim the surface,
water spiders
gliding o'er a pond.
they know
they're prisoners - but own
no will to go
beyond.
for superficial souls,
sufficient
inobtrusive game.
but bonfires rage
my heart within,
not single darting flame.
moon batchelder
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-touch/
