It is impenetrable.
Ruptured, tough on the balls of feet;
tarnished by freckles;
dyed to the curve of spaghetti straps
across the sheet of your back.
Cuts which open like scarlet storybooks.
Then there are your eyelids,
soft as birth.
Fingers worn down into battlegrounds,
Throw yourself at the world
with your thick skin,
It will graze you in all the wrong places.
They will ignore your tough feet
to sand down the swirls of each fingerprint.