With Out Armor
Growing up, growing old
Changing faces of time
Whithered a bit around the edges
Scars tracing paths along my soft planes

Shedding my armor
Standing before you
Vulnerability easily seen

Looking past my imperfections
Seeing me as I am

Touching, oh so softly, the nectar of myself
Seeing life spring before you
Tasting the lush flavors which I so willingly offered

Hand to skin, finding a milky, rich texture
Almost angelic in its nature

Embedding a map of my body in your mind
Wondering delicately over every contour

Losing yourself into me
Wishing somehow we fused together
Remaining parts of each other

Knowing that tomorrow will come
Another day, another battle
Armor on again