Triggered

What is this part of me
that I so want someone
to touch and hold
caress and cherish

And I know
I've been told
that is the gift I must
give myself

How dis-eased and
close to the edge
am I
that just a flash
of the blade
by way of a few
bars of music
or golden notes from
a songbird's throat
or some instrument strains
or a few frames
lay me bare
raw and eviscerated
vulgar and oozing
with a longing
that will not be named