ON THE OUTSIDE

the change i imagine
can't happen
unless i demand it,
unless i stop
shielding my soul
with this body, stop
using my sex as a reason
to salvage this silence.
i take you
with hands that would rather
be held, but believe
that this skin is the only way in,
so i keep stripping down
on the outside,
while my Self stays
concealed, eclipsed
by my sorry attempts to appease you,
my need to pretend i'm content
to preserve our supposed
and shallow affections,
our skimming-the-surface
just barely
brand of connection.