there's a line of scabs right now
decorating my lower right back
a darker brown which stands out
against the melanin concentration
in my epidermisthere's probably more
along my upper back
somewhere on my stomach
hiding underneath my armand although it's tmi
I really don't know
how I got those scabsI didn't accidentally scrape myself
with the blade of a steel knife
I didn't bump into something sharp
that scraped my flaky skinsomehow I'd like to think
that these scabs come from a soulmate
equally as clumsy as me
who bumped into something sharp
and now has a line of scabs on their skinI'd like to think that maybe
just maybe someone out there
shares the same line of scabs
on their lower right backI'd like to think that maybe
just maybe there's someone out there for me
YOU ARE READING
pluto | poetry ✓
Poetrythe space station hums with the early morning traffic, the wafting of coffee and fresh croissants filling the air. for the first time, you are not behind your desk, hitting your shins on the weirdly placed piece of metal, but strapping yourself insi...