Pen to the paper

The questions are a blur

My mind feels drunk

Not sure how to answer

I think of boys

Of the touch of a man

Palms together

Holding hands

He feels warm

He feels like honey on toast

I thought if only his presence

Wasn’t that of a ghost

I put my pen to the paper

Fill in C if unsure

Will I feel that warmth enough

Is the man my cure

Without touch

Without a hug that lights up my senses

How am I to live

To tear down my fences

I sit in the exam room

I think I should mention

It’s cold in here

What’s the next question?