by on August 29th, 2010
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My flesh has no skin

My wound no scab

And that subtle scratch

You didn’t make

Is making me bleed

You reach your hand across the table

The one that’s wise

It cleanses the dirt and as it goes

It weaves me of compassion a new skin

Dressed in understanding

Sealed in love

Glowing with passion

Hand your hand

That we may jump into the abyss,


Reach from across the table

Befriend my hurt

That I may be naked

with my bleeding wounds

and my skinless flesh

At ease, before you.

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