Stripping leaves of logic

From the uneven grains of

Heart-songs and truth-whispers,

I dance precariously on the

Edge of narcotic comfort and

Unbearably naked vulnerability.

Boldly your eyes penetrate

My shivering exterior,

Invite and demand a

Potent honesty from the

Lips that long to kiss you and

To seal my last secret.

Body and soul combat in

Raging erotic hunger and

Convulsing privacy,

But only one will win out

In this, my civil war.

A million excuses finally

Expelled from their

Sundry lodgings, the

Leper of truth steps forth

From dank and dreary cave

To touch the cloak of his

One true love and believe

That faith is stronger than

The fear that eats his flesh.

Divine ecstasy delivers

Quivers of anticipation through

His melting skin as he

Sees the beauty before him

Raise a hand to bless him for

Abandoning the cloak of fear…

And then the leper sobs,

For to be laid bare before

His true love has changed

Not the condition of his skin.

Truth has only robbed him

Of his cave and, pity of pities,

His true love isn’t in the

Practice of healing lepers.

And because my leprous truth

Cannot be healed, I will

Simply empty my soul and

Hope that you fill it with

An ounce of your truth.

My lips spill their secret.

But do you run? No.

Do you heal me? No.

Instead you sob…

And then I realize the

Truth. We are all lepers.