insecurity

wear cling-wrap
over your skin,
for the light
is too much
to breathe,
and so,
gorge on yourself,
save your pretty sheen
from the weathering of souls,
but only until
you've spent
your own breath,
staled in the shrivels
of your gut,
hissing with the cry
of a love
waiting to be peeled
and devoured
by the freshness
of a life lived
with you
and us
exposed.