26 May 2012
When I look at you
My eye must always settle
On your skin.
Parts are flushed with
Joy or sexuality
And now, embarrassment.
There are long, smooth
Strokes of flesh
Soft as compliments
And flirtation.
There are creases and folds
Wrapping the effort
Of movement and memory.
Some areas arid, dry like mortar
For the limbs
Other areas moisten
With intensity
If your lover does not call
If your lover does call
If your love rises and falls
Upon your busy body
You sweat.
Youth trampolines
In tighter membranes
But experiences rolls
In beautiful folds.
The pulse and bones
And juice and stones
Of your avatar
Are held in skin.
Pink pages of your history.
I read these
With my fingers.
Senses 1: Skinny • Opuss № I