Skin

This Ivory skin growing all around.
How every crevice, folds and stretches to move in any way desired.
Eyes mesmerized by the way our hands brace our body with care.
The gentle welcome within each stroke made. Jealous of how pure the skin feels.
Watching how the fingers dance,
gliding across each new path.
The mind has become distorted,
gone mental in this world of innocence.
Wishing the skin would feel rough and match it's true form of what's inside.
No longer fooling our body to think we have yet to go through hell.
For our finger tips to scratch the skin till there is no more of this false portrayal of an innocent life we live.
That maybe we don't have to cover ourself in an identity that doesn't belong.
This disproportionate being that We truly are can become comfortable showing everything we regret. Instead of one side fooling the other.
Maybe one day our true form will be as smooth as our ivory skin.