i wish that i had no face.
maybe my body would be more notable,
more willing to be desired.
i know it's not my skin that's turned you away,
but it stings like the clasp on my bag-
carrying the need to be wanted.
i've never felt so emptied.
my insides have come clean,
exposing the core.
what a lonely satellite signal-
a feeling like no other,
turning me pink with envy,
wishing i was never touched-
never forced to because a stool to stand on
so they may find service.
i hope you never touch me again.
not because i don't want you too-
but because i am not worth genuine embrace.
YOU ARE READING
speak softly
Poetryyou speak until your breath gives out, and the shallow huffs of words they never heard beg to be buried; but live on in the sidewalks. - - - prose/poetry
