I’m Made of Skin, and Your Love is a Knife

I’m made of skin, and your love is a knife;

strong, cutting deep, drawing blood. Peeling

back layers until it’s inside the most vulnerable

part of me. Past the wave-like wrinkles

that show just how hard I worked for those

three, stupid words. Through sensitive tunnels and pathways,

see the flowing blood I pump for you. Into the beating drum

of my heart, know it only beats for you, I live for

you. But I’m still made of skin, and your love is a knife;

powerful and destructive, cracking my most fragile parts.