I let you fold
into the creases
of my skin

like a balm
that softens
down to the
sixth layer

my fingers run
smooth upon
it

there are no Braille
letters to read

secrets from

I remember the way
I used to itch
before you

the passionless redness
of angry cells, desperate
yet unable to burst

now, your fingerprints
burn bright

upon me

and each freckle I
previously hated

is another reminder
of your

touch