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Have you ever met someone who truly feels like your other half? Who completes you? Not even romantically, I mean even a friend who mirrors your soul, reflecting back the sweetest parts. Well, I met one of these people last spring.

It sounded like the popping of a champagne bottle. 

Skin to skin. 

I know he loves my insides, 

So I pour them all out,

All over the bed,

Until the sheets are stained. 

Then I shower 

I am the product of my maker 

my mothers rain and swollen stomach 

her supposed worth; the give and give and give to her take 

Those who are lost 

have forgotten 

the body does not stop or start at the skin, 

but continues to be one being. 

It is the summer before my freshman year of high school. I greet the world as one would a new friend. Possibility stretches from all directions, reaching out from my pale skin and dissipating into the cloudless sky.