Beneath this dress, there is matching red underwear to be found.
It says something about me, that I like the hidden parts
of myself to be the boldest. Perhaps I am wearing it only
to turn myself into a symbol of ***, a goddess
to be reckoned with, but I like the power that gives me.
Underneath the wine red fabric, I am utterly naked -
stripped of all that is my own and left, stranded,
a faceless body to be looked at. Beneath that
there is only skin,
yards and yards of skin, stretching
beyond horizons you couldn't possibly have imagined.
It glints with youth like dew in the light.
It is pale and untouched, mottled with veins and vessels
all carrying the same purpose: life.
I am haggard, crooked and old
but my surface is soft and warm to the touch.
I'm so smooth and perfect that if you strip me to my core
I'm like driftwood - misplaced and beautiful.
The grain of my body flows into knots and splinters,
twisted and graceful. I'm frozen in motion,
my limbs in shifting stillness, dance
captured in the undulating surface of my body.