Skin
I take my skin off, piece by peace
Slowly,
So I can hang it up
—Shiny like glass—
And look at the gashes.
They are burned deep by fears,
Coming so close to the surface
(But no breakthroughs yet).
I pack them with well-wishes and hopes
That feel like old, wet news(papers),
And promise myself that those words won’t melt
Before I can put my skin back on,
Seal myself together,
And make the darkness a temporary night
So I can dream
Uninterrupted by the pretend.
This poem is about:
Me