I am made of something malleable
A painted earthen sort of softness
And I can push my pulses
With the warmth and pressure of my thumb
You'll see me differently than I choose to be
For someone else but in this small way
I'll revel in knowing beyond all else
I remain the very best at allowing you
To keep the memory of a mystery
Hidden in the sun-shattered way
I've chosen to let you see me