the men in my life are consistent like acne
they are red to be mistaken for pink
like the colour of my gums when i brush too hard
plaque
trying to get you to detach
they scare me and scar me
like strechmarks upon my stomach
and surgery indents after the removal of my appendix -
the doctor said it was growling
pain, coming and going for months
and if it wasn’t removed it could be fatal.
they bump and bruise and squeeze and
ooze
coming onto my skin and leaving
staying on my skin and spreading
indifferent
malignant
i touch my skin and it’s braille
all the words they whispered
translated on my cheeks
they can’t see but i can feel
te sens rose
blushed, flushed
raw.
they are repetitive
same patterns of brunnete boys
that fill my pores and pour ice
down my open mouth until it turns to water