I. Delaney
We leave this city behind, skin
against skin, hand in hand, never
letting go. Skin scars
and never forgets the past.
The lights, the rhythm, the people,
this is not our place to stay.
II. Sara
Feathers fall from their roots
in skin. They fade as they float,
forgotten, and skin greys
at the loss, but will never recall
what is gone. The skin unfurls
into a husk and drifts through
empty corridors.
III. Jade
Skin knows trauma and sews
security over gashing
gullies, pulling pieces back
as one. Never has skin severed
so deep. Never has skin recalled
residual calamities and braced
against a coming storm. Skin
never shuddered as fierce.
IV. Abby
There was a time when skin
didn’t feel like it knew
a home, but long roads
of lasting emptiness
led it to the city
it searched for.
V. Liz
Skin remembers each lying touch,
and never forgets being torn,
but skin wounds can heal. Skin
remembers the denial, never
forgets the hatred, but misses
the comfort, that feather of
beauty and all its love.
VI. Hope
Skin never forgets stress
or depression. It calls
a vicious city a home, and
alcohol a bed. Skin stretches
for thousands of miles, wraps
round bodies in hundreds
of colors. Does skin forgive?
VII. Shelby
Skin always remembers
it’s not special. Deep within,
skin buries itself
in self-doubt and wraps
itself in sadness. It wants
to forget, but the chains of
depression hold the feelings
in place.
VIII. Hallie
Skin rustles under cold sheets
each night. Lonely fingers grasp
for an ounce of warmth, only
to return to itself with empty hands.
We never care to remember
the scars of time; skin
that was once smooth,
now worn and wounded by years
of emptiness, deep and gnawing.
IX. McCartney
Skin remembers the razor,
tentative, across the wrists.
“I will never be good enough”
“I will never be loved”
“I am alone with no help”
“I’m drowning” Skin also
remembers the warmth of a hug,
a held hand, a close body
saying, “it will be okay.”
X. Alexis
Skin knows when it is touched.
When skin creeps it’s not alone.
When water falls from above
skin dances in the drops.
When skin is uncertain,
it looks for company. Skin
remembers that it used to look
for love.