Exposed Skin

A stranger leans close, and I see it there,

a collarbone peeking, vulnerable, fine.

My heart skips a beat in this fragile affair,

as they shift their shirt like they’re hiding a sign.

Coffee spills slowly, pooling like thoughts,

a drop of something raw on a napkin undone.

Each curve of their body, a lesson that’s taught,

that closeness is strength, yet feels like a gun.

Their gaze, half a window, half shield from the world,

is it fear of the truth that hides in the light?

In this crowded café, every secret unfurled,

reveals that we’re fragile, yet craving the fight.