If I were to take off my sweater
and jeans
and shoes
and socks
and bra
and underpants,
but not necessarily in that order,
you wouldn't see my skin
or the curves of my hips
or the bulges of my *******,
rather
you'd see the swells of goosebumps
that have begun to make me,
invisible.
I feel as though all that's left for us to do
is lay within the pile of nerves that
I've begun to shed,
and maybe in some hopes,
we can find a proper tangle
to wrap my legs within.