Danger, danger

Occasionally,
your communication
leaves me
jagged, so jagged.

My skin morphs
into the thinnest of cloth,
barely containing the pointed edges of my affliction,
those dagger points skimming the surface,
each movement deepening the forming laceration.
“Danger!” my heart cries out.

Maybe
the broken shards of some
far off and away
(sorely missed)
feeling of safety and
(dare I say it)
love
will inch through the fine weave
(never thick-skinned, not with you),
An agonizing drag.
“Danger! Danger!”

I cannot contain this.