I want to peel back your skin
and show off all the layers no one gets to see
I want to crawl inside your skin,
and be that layer—
you never thought,
you needed.

I'll add new layers
that make your skin soft.

maybe then I will understand—
why your skin is so roughly made,
burnt from all the thorns of the world
stepped on and left marks that never seemed to heal.

but you still dont show it, do you?

what’s hiding in those layers of
fake happiness,
pain,
misery?

How do we cut off all the dead skin
make you blossom—
into new skin, that doesn’t cut you with every touch?