Last week, I saw two lovers (teenagers)
Crawl out of a beached boat at noon.
I wondered who they were and how they’d met.
Today, I have an abstract cluster of splotches
In the centre of my palm-
I dug my hand into my spoon
When carving out the iced ice cream
I had before my salad.
This week, I grew scales behind my ears
And a textured roughness on my throat.
I looked myself in the eye without makeup
And recognised myself only on the third day.
But I learnt that people will still love you-
Still miss you-
Even with bloodied bumps upon your skin.
They are only surface wounds,
And you are most beautiful under your skin.