The Skin That I Wear.
You and I,
We stand without our confidence,
While we all taste the rain and,
With little pause, we lift our heads up as the sky let’s go on us.
As it lets go on me, as I let go on you,
You lightly kiss your apologies upon my neck.
Soft, like a nestling infant.
Warm, like rolls at Easter.
My recesses swell,
They become corpulent at your arvidity,
The hurried breath you breathe.
For the skin that I wear
To venerate and become high on.