Dried Paint

Dead skin

falls off 

the body  

sheds the excess,

like dried paint

curling and crusting over

before letting go;

like a home

that had two many layers of paint

that had too many layers of pain

that throws out inhabitants

it no longer needs

or loves

and just becomes a house

will no layers.

An empty shell

for no one.

I watch my skin 

peeling off 

and let go of the sentiment

that I too 

was excess.