Skin of silk

This skin does not suit my frame today.

How I wish to shrug it off!

Like an ill-fitting overcoat long outgrown �"

To bundle it into the trunk without fear of

Torn fabric or dusty cuffs �"

Forsaken �"

Not even a kiss goodbye.

Allow the fumes to take it.

Cover it with smog, for that is all it is good for.

And leave behind the fluttering heart;

The limbs, this wretched body - with all its flesh!

It would be all gone �"

A lightness instead.

No darkness to steal my breath �"

That beautiful lover,

Always deserting me �"

Breathless and gasping upon the tiles -

Then never calls �"

I spend the nights longing to rip my skin like silk.

Just so I can breathe again.

It’s all too enclosed in here.

And I despise these walls, just as much as these bones �"

Both too white.

Both in need of peeling.

The scarf of life around my neck �"

Always so tight.

These useless fingers unable to untie the knot you laced.

Tied like a mother who once cared

To protect me from the chill of the outside,

Smiling as she locked the door.

She did not think of you.

Mother, can you hear me?

You cannot protect me anymore.

The damage is done.

This zip is jammed around my throat

And all you can do is watch.

The buttons have broken �" no longer heart shaped.

Instead wooden splinters in my palms �"

My stitches are coming undone.

Paper cuts were never enough �"

Those burns worthless after a moment.

Just a gleam upon my skin.

Is this what you wanted for me?

I know I disappoint �"

All of you �"

It’s all gone �"

The key;

His sleeping face;

No poetry;

Just this �"

These shallow lungs �"

Barely breathing.

In and out.

In and out.

Are all that is left.

Reviews

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

Entombed within corporal seniew does resemble solitude. No one knows the inner workings, for Them, (all others), it is different. To reach out and not being unable to connect is foreign to a free spirit who recollects the 'before time'. The confinement seems unbearable. The rules are different here and I don't want to play this game of illusions. We must crawl. How vulgar, while remembering flight. Yet the game is addicting once begun. Memories of the 'before time' can be an asset when I learn to see Them as They were. You are greater than most. This tears Them apart, and they don't know why. Use your greatness to build Them up. Then, You will Shine. I see you in the 'before time'. In the light. You are great. Infect those you encounter. Make them Great. This my dear, Is, the new game. Your great writing supports my statements.

[Zia Doyle]

The skin is just a physical reminder of the weighted experiences and memories that can seem to entrap us in our self-made captivity. Powerful imagery and quite evocative. Wonderfully written. :)

[ElizaB]

Thank you for taking the time to read through my piece. I very much appreciate it :)