Epidermis

Skin on skin,
I want to read you.

Skin
hiding wounds,
and storms of tears
becomes a blanket
in the sun.

Your skin
will shout for me.

Blind
in the dark,
you will peruse my body,
your silent fingers
dancing on my flesh.

Sentence
by sentence
you will write and trace
an ancient hieroglyph
of passion.

My skin
will shout for you.

– Hope Maxwell-Snyder