She stands behind the curtain, always concealed; It takes her shape where she stands, only revealing her feet. I ask her questions, she answers me; the other times, she barely speaks.
Is she naked? Is she scarred? The secrets are openly buried. Not one step forward, not one behind, she’s in the shadows, scarily quiet.
“Why do you need to see my skin? Aren’t words bare enough?” Broke her silence and enough she spake;
What do I say, darling? For I can desert love but this lust, I can’t forsake.