--YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO
…I got my copy of “Lost In Thought” magazine. What a terrific looking journal. The photography is outstanding. Even my son said so. I have a short piece in it called, “New Skin.”
Here it is:
New Skin
He did not say I was pretty. Instead he said, “I can make you forget.”
No one had ever uttered anything so
bold.
He said, “Let me see.”
So I showed him everything. I unbuttoned, unhinged and uncovered all of my
layers.
I let him touch me—there and there,
and even there. I figured it was part of
the healing process, that scars were really just wounds on the way to new skin.
He never bought me gifts. He didn’t believe in them. He said, “This is so much better,” and he
touched me again.
He was hard to satisfy. He made me feel rabid, incomplete instead of
sutured. He kept me hoping, guessing, on
edge. And in that way he made me forget
the other thing.
His hands had fingers, of course
they did, but these felt like velvet pulleys.
I enjoyed them and then I didn’t.
Then it was different and he said, “Hey,” and I said, “Not that
way. Love me. Me,” and he said, “We had a deal, didn’t we?”
I saw him again, for the first time
in months. We were in a crowded coffee
shop. A girl was giggling. He had foam on his nose and top fang. I wasn’t sure if he’d done it on purpose.
I reached inside my sweater and
fingered one long mark that dropped to my waist. The scars of men might linger, I decided
then, but I would move on, I would live.
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