My skin has always been  

the first to give me away—  

warming at your touch,  

sparking at your nearness,  

telling the truth  

I tried so hard  

to keep quiet.  

It remembered you  

in ways I couldn’t control—  

a shiver,  

a softening,  

a pull toward you  

that felt older  

than logic.  

Even after distance  

and silence  

and all the reasons  

I shouldn’t feel anything,  

my skin still reacts  

to the memory of you  

like a match  

striking itself.  

It confessed  

what my mouth refused to say—  

that some connections  

don’t fade,  

they settle deeper,  

waiting for the moment  

they’re finally allowed  

to speak.

– E. J.