acne

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