Your love for me is surface love. At parties you use me like a bauble, one to be pointed at and admired. In a restaurant you serve your knowledge of wine across the table and off me it bounces, volleying your admiration for yourself back at you.

But between the sheets you clothe me with confidence. You undress me with wanton passion. You gather me up and accompany me to your glory.

And in the morning… you skate away.

***

Surface is the one-word prompt on The Daily Post.