Pincushion

This skin
gets more and more thin,
and can’t stop what wants to get in.

What’s seen in crowding eyes.
What’s under, in disguise.

This night life sees the knives;
sees the fortunes of our lives.

Still it feels the warmth of smiles;
a lover’s selfless sweet denials.

***

Image: https://pixabay.com/users/welshpixie-10119553/

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