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Tepid skin houses hollow thoughts. Every word was smoke. From a fire long extinguished. Every touch a whisper of what long ago might've been.

For a while I thought he was lost. Until I found him. Buried treasure full of plastic jewels.

There are those that are armani. And those who only think they are. Imagining themselves to be better than the other clearance items with which they share that rack.

But the same five dollars will buy any of them.

The soulmate for whom he searches has always been there. Every time he looks at himself.

I dug through a blizzard of pages to find the girl that got buried in them. And discovered she was not near as frozen as the people she thought she should love.

This skin is only a curtain on rooms they may never see.

I wish I could be like him. So consumed with others' imperfections that I never notice my own.

If life is as precious as they tell themselves, how then do they justify treating it so poorly.

Many women will love him for everything he isn't.

But none will ever love him for who he really is.