Skin
That narrow porcelain plinth of flesh
It gets to hold your head
And I'd rather perform the task instead
I'll use my hands
You told me of your heart
A cold tile cavern bathed in dark
And earthy roots hanging from within
To shed some light the fire must get in
A searing pulse
I'm a fever in your chest
The burning sun I'm west
I, I am too naïve (You, you are too naïve)
Your lunar strands were lit in red and green
A captivating scene
A portion of myself was lost to me (A portion of yourself was lost to–)
But I'm not dead (But you're not dead)
Just a harbour no one's in
An empty salt filled skin
Autor(es): MARIKA LOUISE HACKMAN