SKYN

How I yearn for his fingers to touch me again...

His fingers caress my skin
as if searching for answers over my scars;
like they would fade away with his strokes;
like old memories would be replaced by those very moments.

He traces my curves, the spots, the marks
and everything else I’ve been told makes me look awful.
All the reasons given to me throughout life,
telling me why I don’t look pretty,
and how that makes me not worthy of being loved -
he finds them beautiful and I feel beautiful in his arms.
Just lying there naked,
knowing that this man doesn’t judge.
In those moments, we found comfort,
not in skyn, but in skin -
in our own, and with each other’s.