Do They Sell Skin Flakes For Garra Rufa?

When I reach the end,
I hope by then, I’ve learned to shed my skin.
Those dry remnants of myself that my soul clutches onto,
In fear of what happens when I finally stop playing pretend
And reveal myself for who I truly am.
Will they quake and scream when they see at last
How vile a creature is behind his veil of flesh?
I’ve been wrapped up in my own skin,
Holding onto this version of myself for too long.
My skin is getting itchy.
I scratch and scratch, and watch the flakes, those shreds of my being
Fall elegantly to the earth like feathers, twirling like a dancer
In front of a stage, but so deep in the zone,
She was the only person in her world.
I think of you in that moment and my eye twitches, my lip purses.
Fragments of myself lie by my shoes.
My once-covered, now uncovered skin, begins to breathe.
Goodbye, me.
Goodbye, you.
Hello, me.
How are you?

-k.r.r.