between you and me the layers stretch to breaking
keeping us apart
a porous integument worn at the margins
the distance between us
separation is another skin we wear
as sensation rubs away at a touch
where breathing is a mouth asking for a reason why
fingertips say more than speech
between you and me is an outside world of differences
invasion and despair ravaging the flesh
our weakness
our strength tight across our bones
the skins we wear for our own protection
skins upon which you or I lay an arm or hand
to reach beneath
to find some feeling leaching to the surface
hidden in folds of skin waiting for a caress
for touch skin to skin one to one
© BH, 2021
More about connection and separation. Probably brought about by thinking too much about hand sanitising, masks, and social distance. There it is, though, the skin that defines and contains us but separates us from each other. Our protection and our prison. Whole lives are spent trying to connect and reach across.; whole others to concealment. All the same, there remains a need.
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