Skin is like paper, revised

[tectak]

I am posting in this sub, not because I think the poem is especially good, but because I need proper feedback on it. I have shown It to one other person, a friend I trust not to blow smoke up my ***.

I would be very interested to know what people think it is about. I would also accept comments on why it is either good or bad. I do not consider it finished but I'm not sure what would take it there.
It has been pushed and poked a little,
I get cutting it back but I'm trying to get as much detail in there as it will hold.
I'm also not quite ready to cut it so heavily as has been suggested, don't know why, might be my stubborn streak


revised

Skin is like paper, dry, etched with soft grain.
Delicate and somehow pleasant to the touch.
Dressing us in a fine cloth of warm damask.

Skin wraps us, casing, folded gently
Caressing us like broad arms, protective and caring.
Curving and taut, tailored to the inch in fit and cut.

Skin is fragile, yet supple and lithe, laid over flesh
Bent and twisted it is held, like water in a creek bed.
Breaking like a butterfly's wings, dashed by the wind.

Skin is browned and black, blistered and burnt.
Layered from beneath, fire given life’s touch. - not sure what I want to do with this line
Peeling like ribbons, freed of the vestige of thews.

Skin is so thin and slight, so easily sundered and broken
It cracks suddenly like a fine china, in pale, slender splinters.
It is dashed like an innocent dream upon the harsh dawn.

Skin carries a tale authored, in forlorn coloured inks of pain and regret.
The days of its owner is scored in words, pale and mute.
A life of times on a surface, laid bare for one with eyes.



Skin is like paper - first posted

Skin is like paper, dry, etched in soft grain.
Delicate and somehow warm to the touch.
Dressing us in a fine cloth of heavy damask.

Skin is like paper, fragile, supple and lithe.
Torn like butterflies wings, dashed by wind.
Bent and twisted it clings like water in a creek bed.

Skin is like paper, casing, folded and wrapped
Caressing us like broad arms, protective and caring.
Curving and taught, tailored to the inch in cut and fit.

Skin is like paper, browned and black, blistered and burnt.
It boils from beneath, living fire giving it life’s touch.
Peeling like ribbon, freed of the vestige of flesh.

Skin is like paper, thin and slight, easily broken
It breaks like a fine china, in pale, slender splinters.
It is dashed like an innocent dream upon the harsh dawn.

Skin is like paper, it carries the tale of times past.
The life of its owner is written in words, pale and mute.
A life of times on a surface, laid bare to one with eyes.


thank you to all who read this and leave appropriate comment

Hi,
you have had some good crit and responded in explanatory fashion....I see where you are going but only after the response. Now look up "palimpsest" to see if it helps. You asked for appropriate comment and I can offer little else beyond what has already been said. Now I am going to bed.
Best,
tectak