Two-hundred and Ninety-two: Skin

I am not Casanova smooth.
My skin does not fold gently into the good light.
There is braille between my breasts,
a purple Pollock on my leg.
I have a swollen starfish beneath each wing,
a pink snake sailing across my belly
and a brown palm print on my hip.
I have a pale river rocking my knee,
and eggshell stars tattooing my toes.
There is a charred flower on my arm,
fading amongst the bloody weeds,
and tiny moons -ten of them-
glowing on my thigh.
Somewhere, is an ex lover’s name.
I have little red flags scattered
everywhere; not one white.

My skin is not Casanova smooth.
It is not a sunny day,
a Sunday afternoon,
an American sitcom,
a Concorde flight
or a paper laugh.

I let it all shine through because
it is proof of my pain and
I wear it with pride.

I love my tattered, tainted, runched up,  swollen, tired, scarred, sore, skin. Do you love yours?


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

15 thoughts on “Two-hundred and Ninety-two: Skin”

  1. Oh Lexi. That was so fucking wonderful.

    Unfortunately, I don’t really love my skin. But I love that you lover yours and that you can write words like that about it.

    Please never stop.

    1. Oh Heather, I write poems like this to HELP me love my skin, not BECAUSE I do. Also, I think my love for my scars is a bit masochistic- I hurt therefore I deserve love now. We’ll get there…

  2. the beauty in truth is irresistible.

    and though these words express what you feel

    I find it hard to believe that that’s all there is to it…

    I feel it falls short. 🙂

  3. A name, really? Silly girl. I love skin. I love to travel along the stories it tells. God, I love skin.

    Mine tells my own story both in scars and in ink. I should add some more ink now that I think about it.

    1. You should! Most of the scars I have at the moment are because of an accident involving fire and I can’t be in the sun until they’re healed! This is especially frustrating because I live in Greece. 40 degree heat and no beach? Hell! Wear that bikini with gusto, woman!

  4. skin is paper thin with dark lines of misery and smear of wasted beauty. u still gotta love the pain the pens left.
    ps. love ur previous template. it so well juggled with balance with the entire blog theme. just saying

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