Strip.
Layer no. 1 is easy to slip out of. It doesn’t chafe against her skin or rub her up the wrong way. It leaves her provocative and talkative, a smile too big for her mouth and hair that twines its way down her spine, hissing and writhing till she twists and turns, like a dancer on fire.
How fucking irresistible.
Strip
Layer no. 2 is like second skin. It’s fused to her so tight that she only lets it fade when no one’s watching. When it’s 3:45 at night and it’s just her and a deaf cat, when it’s 4 girls 23 shots down and sheets soaked in tears, when comrades who made her day transform into people who walk through her hiwhatsupimgoodgottahead, when she can’t save people who kill themselves every single day, on repeat.
Strip
Layer no. 3. The under the skin layer. The one that defies cheat codes, heart shaped boxes and a whole lotta love. The one that won’t let you touch her, not when you’ll leave hole shaped memories and a delete = 6. So much beauty in the unbreakable. What you won’t notice is the nail marks on her palm, how her toes curl when you talk to her how she’s so aware of you it hurts. Scaredy cat. Catfish. Catatonic. Catastrophe. She’ll never come clean but what did you expect from a girl who won’t swallow?
But hey,
Now that you’ve uncovered the layers, and you’re this close to skin,
Might as well go all in.
Top Cat!
The indisputable leader of the gang.
He's the boss, he's a pimp, he's the championship.
He's the most tip top,
Top Cat.
