Skin

 

Overworn, 

   The shallow drapery 

      

         Smothers 

A heart so full of voice 

  

  It's language, 

      More foreign than familiar 

As in the stillness of anyday 

   The within, effortlessly loud 

The sensation of tightness suffocating 

  and anxiety palpitating- 

  There is a sheathe 

      Bound and tied 

    Around this heart; 

Not the organ alone, 

  But who She is, 

        In her electromagnetic field. 

I can tell, 

  

   Something aches to birth. 

       It aches! 

   and it aches in me, 

Tiny vessel of so much charge. 

Haywire of circuitry.  

I understand the depth of sadness; 

    Born into a world, minus a love that once was innate & parallel 

       To the living. 

And yet Here, 

   We are half-living zombies. 

Stuck in a dimension, 

    (ever)    In between.