He is beautiful,
wrapped
in alabaster skin—
a satin present
enfolded
in white,
and lined
with black;
sooty lashes
brush
against my fingertips,
papery skin
pressed flat
against my palms,
like a cut out doll.
His breath wreaths
the air,
suffocating my lungs,
and I can’t take it
anymore,
but I don’t step away.
He is beautiful,
wrapped
in alabaster skin,
a perfect gift
that I have stained
with my impurity.