Between the outside and the inside
between air and bones
the covering which hides all and
reveals too much.
Age is scratched on, line by tiny line,
deeper and longer until
each crevice becomes a telling abyss.
Skin disguises the inner flaws,
the ones which kill,
while displaying the best facades.
We caress and cling to it,
want skin to glue us closer
while it sweats and slides us further apart.
Fingers print our identities
better than any wide-lipped smile.
Toes touch sand, revel in its silky grains,
elsewhere nerve endings crawl
alive with pain and ecstasy.
Between the rain and the tears
between sunlight and guilt.