Sometimes I follow you,

with broken wings drooping towards the floor and soundless footsteps reaffirming my invisibilty. I must remind myself that I do exist, though you might not notice me at first. When I step out of darkness, with yellow lamp light slipping down the smooth contours of my body, will you see me, finally? When I peel away these coarse garments will you be surprised to find that my skin is not an ashen gray, but rather a glossy opal that glows brighter than the milky pearls you strung around her neck, long ago?