Always One (Poetry)

There is no law that says
I must be touched
by anything.

Some days I hold the world away
just far enough
to leave a gap —
a no-go zone — a cushioning
of nerveless space
that won’t transmit
feelings — too much of sense or sound.

Thought slides off me — dismissed
the steel coating of indifference
stiff and slow — all action
mechanical in response.

I stay remote for hours at a time
safe inside myself
glad of armour all the while
doubt’s potentially
paralysing arrows fly —
dream I might become invulnerable.

But there is always one that finds its mark —
a flaw — a chink — a rusting-through
surprising pain into a reflex flowering —
a bud-burst raw in love’s walled garden.

It’s the small things that penetrate —
one quick stab of rain discovering
a thin patch on the roof.