Do you see the shadows? 

How they flicker against my skin? 


Lacquered sheen, 


Some sort of vanity,

my expression,

my body, 

my movement. 

a gift to you.



Warm to the touch, 


Juxtaposed with conceptual innocence, 

Emptiness even,

I suppose.

You see, 

the naivety,

makes me believe you can’t possibly see, 

the silk that run in my bones,

the ocean of my soul, 

the power of my sensitivity. 

Touch me,


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