In Your Skin

It’s a funny place here, in your skin. Why do you keep it

So very pale? Like a sail left out in the sun

For too long and then flown at the turning of tides,

Though it glides across all of the seas

Its beauty is gone.

Such a strange place here, in your skin.

Like an ivory sheet thrown

Over sharp bones, pale tones and fingers

Pointing blame at passers-by of unknown crimes

In times when everyone seems guilty of lies.

Toughened like leather, but stretched too thin,

Keeping the world out and the warmth in.

Let he, without sin

Be the first to cast stones and break this skin

To warm the world and everyone within.

Why keep it in?

A barrier to the world

Unfurled across brittle twigs and branches,

With chances of breaking at the slightest touch.

Is it too much?

Let me help you cast off this blanket

And thank it

For you will be free from the burden to hold it all in.

Your skin.
Like porcelain, so delicate.
A feathery silk dressing

Impressing all those that long to be part of your heart,

A start, would be simply to look past your skin.

What an odd place here, in your skin.

It’s clearly protecting but something’s deflecting

From letting the happiness in.

A blank piece of paper draped on an easel

Is nothing without the artist to do the drawing.

Boring. It’s gnawing at me where I’m trying to see

That you have so much beauty but choose not to show it,

To grow it and let it be free.

Is it me that stops you from being happy

In your skin?

I’d happily show you that all that I love

Is not above but below what is covering,

Smothering the splendour and wonder within.

Your skin.

Such a burden to be in your skin

But I thank you for letting me in,

As it’s clear that you rarely permit for it

To have ever happened before,

But more should really be here to see

And be part of the wonder of you,

My love,

To be part of the wonder

Within.

Copyright © 2011 by Simon Austin