Altered
Your name is
carved on my bones.
The hot air of July
feels like your breath
on my neck.
Your fingerprints
mar my
skin.
Forever stained
by you.
I don’t wait.
I don’t wish.
You are a scar.
Not fresh.
Not raw.
But still pink
and
tender…….
when it rains.
2 thoughts on "Altered"
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Love this! There are great sensory details here, and I love the way you land on ‘when it rains’.
Each sensation making another connection; even the hot air of July (feels like your breath on my neck).