Skin, Prose Poetry, Internal Rhyme

My skin I feel; it’s so unreal. The lightest brush of feathers, the blood rushing within–this sense of touch that means so much. My skin covers my face and chin; the hairs, they grow up from within. I felt them when I woke today. The blood feeding, the feathers catching–my skin again, my hairy skin. I like the feeling of smooth skin; it’s time to depilate again.

Writing 201: Poetry

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5 Comments on “Skin, Prose Poetry, Internal Rhyme”

  1. rosemawrites says:

    Oooh. I can imagine you caressing and touching your skin. This is done nicely!

  2. Those depilatory creams do eat up some change but feels good after the job is done 🙂 Lovely


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