You Were Once

I am not by nature - clean.
My skin often dries - but I cover those cracks with creams,
so when the day comes that you get close enough,
I will resemble better who you believe me to be.

With any luck,
You will overlook the years of dirt
Still imbedded beneath the paint and plaster of these fingers;
The skins of all those other men,
trophies of former youth-
rotting.

The audacity I must have,
to so much as shake your hand,
expecting love.
But you were once too.