When I think of you, I close my eyes.
I am naked,
You see beneath my skin,
Tearing little holes of indemnity through me,
It does not matter what I do,
For you know me, you know me.

I dream you think of me.
I bite bloody lips and singe flesh,
Remembering.
It is an accent an echo a stumble
into a tumble of clothes falling off
and into disarray.
I once believed it was meant to be,
We are disarray.
I still believe.  We are that echo.

You count the scars upon my skin,
I let you in.
We count together, lines and marks and stories.
I think they are beautiful,
You do not think of them at all.
There will be no more.

When I think of you, I close my eyes.
I do not need them anymore.