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