Pale, white and smooth skin,

no marks on it,

it's so pure,

in the light.

But in the shades

you can see bruises and scars.

Some old, some new,

some really small, and other so huge they are even brighter than the skin.

Memories of old days,

and recent ones.

There is no other way to see 'em,

you're not allowed,

a cloak of delight is in your way,

your sight cannot pass through it,

it's thick

and fits the shape perfectly.