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I am not soft petals with lilac perfume and yellow words.

I am not caramel skin that dips slowly and rolls like warm chocolate in and under pale dresses.

I am not toffee hair falling over flowers, tickling babies' faces, laying on creme- colored pillows.

I am not a gentle beauty.

I am deep kisses on chapped lips, chipped, black nails on raw skin digging ruts in backs. I am discolored in rusty browns and blacks, blending into the shadows of feelings.

I am drops of blood on the rotten carpet your aunt wanted to throw out, but you claimed I had character

I am the last person you think of at night

I am the calluses on your hand after working all day I am not sundresses made of smiles or ivory curtains in the afternoon wind

I am the sharp rock you cut your leg on while you tried to reach the breathing river

Reviews

[Hannah Barwig]

Such cool imagery. It was a fun Poe e to read, the words intrigued me very much.

[Neo]

This is reminiscent of Billy Collins's poem Litany. I love the imagery and the feelings that this poem evokes.
Thanks for sharing. :)