Skin deep
It's like thunder wrenched a sunset, after I've been burned.
It is deeper than careesed, more violent and mean. Like thunder.
I am stirred and entangled, emotionally bruised like the soft white petals of an orchid blossom.
Skin deep is what he says this will never be, as he looks right through me.
He doesn't care where I've been or where I'll go.
Skin deep is a stop sign on the blacktop road to love, or something else, maybe I don't know.
Beauty etched in soft lines across my skin.
The pale notes of sweet awakeness in the soft shadows of the dimples in my back.
Like a blood red sunset I am painted across the sky- deep and sharp and bright in crimson, I am layed bare.
Eyes, brown and blue and palest green- seeing only what they dare to see.
I am the broken glass of humanity.
I am the song in the river, dark and wide.
I am the fingertips of who you used to love.
I am the naked lines of a sleeping woman, wrapped in the white folds of a loose cotton sheet.
And I am the sunflower, big and round and unapologetic for my shinning love of the sun.
This is the woman you look right through. These gray eyes hold the magic of the world, if you cared to see past the anatomy of my skin.
Skin deep is only the power to touch.
It will never be the power to know.
August. 26 2011
It is deeper than careesed, more violent and mean. Like thunder.
I am stirred and entangled, emotionally bruised like the soft white petals of an orchid blossom.
Skin deep is what he says this will never be, as he looks right through me.
He doesn't care where I've been or where I'll go.
Skin deep is a stop sign on the blacktop road to love, or something else, maybe I don't know.
Beauty etched in soft lines across my skin.
The pale notes of sweet awakeness in the soft shadows of the dimples in my back.
Like a blood red sunset I am painted across the sky- deep and sharp and bright in crimson, I am layed bare.
Eyes, brown and blue and palest green- seeing only what they dare to see.
I am the broken glass of humanity.
I am the song in the river, dark and wide.
I am the fingertips of who you used to love.
I am the naked lines of a sleeping woman, wrapped in the white folds of a loose cotton sheet.
And I am the sunflower, big and round and unapologetic for my shinning love of the sun.
This is the woman you look right through. These gray eyes hold the magic of the world, if you cared to see past the anatomy of my skin.
Skin deep is only the power to touch.
It will never be the power to know.
August. 26 2011
