It’s a funny place here, in your skin. Why do you keep it
So very pale? Like a sail left out in the sun
For too long and then flown at the turning of tides,
Though it glides across all of the seas
Its beauty is gone.

Such a strange place here, in your skin.
Like an ivory sheet thrown
Over sharp bones, pale tones and fingers
Pointing blame at passers by of unknown crimes
In times when everyone seems guilty of lies.
Toughened like leather, but stretched too thin,
Keeping the world out and the warmth in.
Let he, without sin
Be the first to cast stones and break this skin,
To warm the world and everyone within.
Why keep it in?
A barrier to the world
Unfurled across brittle twigs and branches,
With chances of breaking at the slightest touch.
Is it too much?
Let me help you cast off this blanket
And thank it
For you will be free from the burden to hold it all in.
Your skin.
Like porcelain, so delicate.
A feathery silk dressing
Impressing all those that long to be part of your heart,
A start, would be simply to look past your skin.

What an odd place here, in your skin.
It’s clearly protecting but something’s deflecting
From letting the happiness in.
A blank piece of paper draped on an easel
Is nothing without the artist to do the drawing.
Boring. It’s gnawing at me where I’m trying to see
That you have so much beauty but choose not to show it,
To grow it and let it be free.
Is it me that stops you from being happy
In your skin?
I’d happily show you that all that I love
Is not above but below what is covering,
Smothering the splendour and wonder within.
Your skin.

Such a burden to be in your skin
But I thank you for letting me in,
As it’s clear that you rarely permit for it
To have ever happened before,
But more should really be here to see
And be part of the wonder of you,
My love,
To be part of the wonder
Within.