Skin to Skin

He gently stokes the skin along my neck.

He does it in a way that was never meant to be erotic

but rather like a father trying to sooth his child to sleep.

He kisses the top of my head to remind me once again that he is here.

That I am here.

It’s easy to forget every now and then.

I press my head deeper upon his chest.

Here things seem slow and calm and real.

He moves his face toward mine and grazes his lips upon my forehead.

Then my cheek,

and pauses at my lips.

He glides his finger over my mouth and I pout so we’re closer.

Sometimes skin to skin still doesn’t feel like enough.

His lips meet mine and they dance slowly,

gracefully.

In a way I didn’t think it was possible for me to move.

He tastes of the wine we had just finished

but I guess I was still craving it.

 

Wounded

Blood spills onto the floor.

I was better where,

I was miserable why didn’t you leave me there?

I deserve this hurt.

I deserve the pain, the embarrassment.

I am a disappointment.

I am heartsick and it is not your job to mend it.

Find someone full of life.

Just leave me here to die.

You seem cold.

I’ve been this way for years.

You’re too young to say that.

I grow faster than most people expect.

You seem tragic.

I was born with it in my veins.

You’re awfully pessimistic.

I’m never disappointed this way.

You have scars on your wrist.

I used to be sad.

You’re not anymore?

I’m not as bad as before.

You look at him like he put the stars in the sky.

I believe he’s magic.

You’re more innocent than you let on.

I have to hold onto something.

You don’t have to pretend to be strong.

I won’t be pretending one day.