Thursday, March 24, 2005

New Skin

New Skin
Ceaseless wandering, no soul to be jealous of,
Feeling you out there waiting
Like feeling the new skin after a scab,
Too new to be yours…yet…
Soon grows in and becomes
Wondering how you ever survived without it
You didn’t.
You had to be cut first,
A piƱata that lives to be beaten,
And after the fiesta seeing your tatters,
Thinking that the smiles on the children’s faces were
The smiles you were born to be cut open for.
And seeing your eyes look at me,
Feeling every drop of blood course out of my veins for you,
For you,
Where I am truly at heaven,
Born to have your love cover me like a blanket on a January night.
You picked up my pieces and healed me over,
My new skin
copyright Matt Butcher 2001

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