There’s something to wearing the skin of another being. To stretch their life across your own; a layer that you allow to become molded together as if it was your own to claim
And yet, in a way it is completely and solely yours They chose you. You are the cavern they inhabit The privilege they offer To experience themselves once again In a new light
A secret covenant, an agreement that only you and this other you can comprehend
We try to make them interesting When really, credit goes to the ones who Move us, shape us, make us weep. The ones who turn us ugly Only to sharpen and reveal their Unmet soul. Those who can no longer speak Pick a flower from a field Or taste fresh honey on their lip.
The underlying narrative Ripe with only words Seep through our fingertips Our heartbeats And the pupil of our eyes.. Together. Matched
A truth is sparked.
It awakens and sings notes of surrender. “I am alive! Again!” Their own vibrational release Ripples into my own melody. Somehow I become a drum Fighting for the same. I see what they see Taste what they desire Cry their sorrows Understand what they know.
Their pain stings my tissues I wear the scars proudly.
Imprinted with a life I get to create!
I am ok.
I am ok with this. To feel another heart Is the opportunity to feel my own.