Feeling your hands on me,

caressing,

exploring,

relieving all the stress of me.

The excess of me.

Tracing old wounds,

until,

you find a crack in my skin.

A piece of armor

not yet repaired.

 

The touch that once brought ecstasy,

extracts me from myself.

Pull at the outside,

bring the structure down,

letting who I am come out.

A never ending metamorphosis.

All of this

comes and goes,

and so must I,

if I am to realize my hopes

and dreams.

 

The screams

that escape me,

as you take me

from who I was.

As you strip me down,

I allow,

because,

if I had my way,

I would be

alone and boring,

but that isn’t the destiny

you had planned for me.

 

 

HG – 2020