ceramic skin

You had a penchant for breaking plateswhen things got tough, you said.Now remember staring across at me, throughthe hope of candlelight, cradling promisesacross to me on your lips.You look like porcelain. milky skin;soft. white. clean.Now remember laying in my bed,never quite believing I was real, you said.Your tongue marbleized, crystallizingaround mine, melding me to you inthe most beautifully cruel way.Now remember when your digitalsecrets found me, even as my lovegrew. Sharper than actions are words.Sharper than the needs shaped like youlodged into my ceramic skin.Even then you were graduating to breaking porcelain dolls;your specialty changing from plates to people.

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