Skin

"Skin (skin) n. : A usually thin, closely adhering outer layer […]

Skin provides a protective barrier". Or at least, that’s what the dictionary tells

On its thin leaves, closely adhering to the lies printed within.

You cannot break down and rationalize my skin,

Just so that I will buy the logical lies your company sells.

My skin is living, breathing, separate

From me, and she even has skin of her own.

When the dictionary tells me that she’s “closely adhering”,

It fails to tell me what I am to do, when I find her gone.

The nouns and verbs and phonetics do not show the emptiness,

The nothingness you feel when your largest organ leaves you.

I will never say she broke my heart, because she has fortified it like a battlement

And left it stronger than it ever was before.

But losing what protects you from the outside world

Leaves you more fragile than breaking from within

And it’s hard to see her walk away"

My protective barrier…my skin.

At first, you will be scared, realize that you’re missing something

(Much like all that is missing in your definition, Webster)

But then it’s mostly just cold. You’ve realized how bare you are.

Looking down, it’s hard to know how such a loss

Could leave no scar.

And it is a loss because it never really left you,

Sometimes adhesion and the human body simply fail.

All that is left is to hold on to it with all your might.

If it goes away, it is only because you let it. You left yourself unprotected.

Luckily, all that’s lost can be found, and every definition can be rewritten.

You can hold tight your skin again and surround yourself

With the only thing that can encircle you and make you more free.

And that’s exactly what you are.

My skin. My love.

Reviews

[Scott A. Williams]

Good start. I'd take another go at this and try to focus in on what you mean, because it's a little too vague, with a number of awkward phrases. Still, a very good angle to take.