Picking on myself

a poem about self-consciousness and anxious ticks

I’m no fun to kiss
Lips twist 
And you’ll taste blood
Sweet skin covered over in rough 

I’m no fun to touch
Lay with me 
Chest to chest
To feel scabs like scales 
Against smooth plush

In the movies 
it’s always pretty ladies hurting 
So I prove my worth with lipstick and blush 

But inside I’m frayed
Like my scalp above
From years of picking
I’m no fun to love

Author's Note

descriptions of anxious ticks like picking at on's one skin, if this triggers you steer clear!

Reviews

[HadesRising]

Well written piece..........

[k]

thank you!!!