Flesh and Memory

My skin, my skin. How I miss you. Your soft embrace, your warmth, your expressivity. But now you lie like a sheet, like a piece of cloth. You are of no use to anyone in your loose form now. But even if we are separated, I will remember you. Even if you hang from a different place, I will remember what used to be mine and what used to clothe my now lowly denuded frame.