My Own
My pinky nails, so piercing, so oval
No toothpick, no Q-tip, can hope to rival
Into tight crevices they sublimely scratch
Excavating pearls of luminescent ear wax
Which into a sticky roll I'll mash
Thin upon my finger, a tiny moustache
As I smooth and polish the grainy texture
Its peachy pink streaks paint a calmer picture
For times of madness, for days lovesick
I'll allow a delectable, salty lick
So warm on my skin, so soft to mold
My measure of mercy, my tender threshold
My own body's fatty gel soothes the burn
When harsh words condemn, when sharp looks spurn
Judged by most as primitive crudity
To me, it's simply the essence of beauty.
10/29/18
for Jesse Rowe's 'Overlooked Beauty' contest
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2018
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