skin

a poem (escapril day seven)

would it be possible to get any closer? to make an incision in your chest and climb in, call it home. 

is that what love is? i mean, it must be. 

i no longer want to be reborn, i want to stay right here, with you. 

my skin is hot and it’s not wine flush, it’s just that the second you put your hand on my thigh i begin to melt. 

i am more than just flesh, and i am more than my impending rot. 

because you said so. 

you’ve gifted me elasticity and purpose just by looking at me, 

but i think i’m an addict – and it’s not enough.

and see, there are seven total layers of skin for me to get through, 

and for that i’m homesick.