skin.

please don't tear the skin. there is not much left. and there are tiny time bombs, asking why, and you are scuttling off without reply. resounding answers...that nothing can erase. a place where lust was dry and caused such empty space to come alive. there are retreats, small cavities i can hide inside, where you find me. breathing. barely alive. there are treatises. waving red flags. on approach...heaving. then, just gone. and often, without so much, as a sullen goodbye.