Sensitive

I feel incredibly sensitive this morning. I know that phrase is usually used in a negative light, as in being sensitive to every little word as an insult, every small slight as an abandonment, but that's not exactly how I mean it this morning.

I feel sensitive, as though every ray of light touching my skin is a small caress.
I feel sensitive, as though I can clearly feel every fiber of the shirt I'm wearing.
I feel sensitive, as though were it not cloudy, the sunlight might hurt my eyes.
I feel sensitive, as though every expression of being loved and wanted means a little more than usual.
I feel sensitive, as though every brush of skin against mine could make my heart grip painfully with the intensity of love and gratitude that I feel for all of the people in my life.