Thin Skin

I am someone who wakes up afraid to cleanse her scars in the warm rain of a pouring shower. A heart anxious the steam hugging the bathroom mirror might just wipe away her camouflage. I am someone who becomes no one as the drain between my feet drinks the last of my alter ego.

I am a woman with skin drenched with hues of angry tones, and fingers shaking to perfect the truth. Pretty, nude powders I pat myself dry with in hopes of painting the beauty I once saw. That flawless sanctuary however, never found in the foundation.

I used to fantasize that, if I was good enough, the man I had made to fall madly in love with me would keep me forever. Protect me from everything. Die if it meant I lived. Chase me even as I woke up older. For I had the alluring talent to make my lovers stay.

A caramel look full of mystery, passion, and wit. I had the consuming ability to pull on eager souls because I wore humanity's standards and for that, I was brave in the idea of unconditional love. Until there came a day I no longer loved myself.