Skin Poems - Poems about Skin

ChatGPT You said: What type of writing is false ad False Advertising No judgment... My truth… Makeup is to enhance, not to mask or even obliterate the existing canvas… Padded bras and body shapers are body makeup… Plastic surgery is inside out false advertising… Masks represent unease to shame… I know… I used to represent and resemble masks… Comfortable with and...

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The chest, a hollow cavern, air catching on jagged edges where a heart used to beat in rhythm. Now, only echoes of laughter, ghosts of shared whispers. Skin, suddenly too thin, every casual touch a phantom limb, recalling a warmth that has vanished. The world, once vibrant, now muted, as if seen through a rain-streaked window. Sleep offers no solace, dreams replay fragments of a lost...

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The outside world makes me sick, suffocates me, dissolves my essence beneath my own skin, Home seems like a distant illusion, reality—a thin veil ready to tear, I beg for other shells to cover my body, to hide my vulnerability, Loose clothes, shining chains, quiet shoes—all to divert attention. I try to hide the pain, to blur the days...

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Heartthrob in damsel drag Belief of human bile Completely instilling cascading dregs of mechanical flesh, bones and spit 64th avenue And coiling deft doom Winged balls of bulging blood and speckled steel Merry wails and flutters of moths unsealed Fitted upon falling kneel And reckoned release of rotten roadkill- Rats and babes and brats Congealed candy and sickeningly sweet brandy And hailed light of...

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Cells held secret ballots in my bones, voting for mutiny in whispers. Cancer, that drunk architect, scribbled collapse into my blood's blueprint. They built black gardens in my lungs, where breathing became a treasonous act. Tumours whittled my ribs into broken bridges, pinned eviction notices on my veins. Every chemo drip was a gamble— waging war against a traitor that wore my own face. Hair fell...

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My skin is not smooth—it is a landscape, creased and rough, folded like a well-traveled map. The curve of my neck cradles the sun, even when the sky is gray and distant. The scar on my knee is where I learned gravity, There I remember how my knees sought answers and bruised against silence, The faded marks on my...

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Her skin, a velvet sin, a scripture I recite with the tip of my tongue, melts like dark chocolate, bitter and sweet on my hungry lips, pouring confessions in breathless whispers, a dance of endless desire. I pull her closer, white-knuckled on silk sheets, intoxicated by the ecstasy between her thighs, a paradise lost and found, a pleasure so intense...

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Fluid intake brings Radiant skin glowing sight Charm shines even more....

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"Hey, feelin' good was good enough for me, good enough for me and my Bobby McGee" ... Kris Kristofferson and Fred Foster A grinning October moon bore witness to the quickness of desires coiling soul-skin-insistent in a woman-girl and her own, Bobby McGee. Two souls, just met ~ Bobby roamed, she lived in her parent's home...

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I am naked. _bare_ my hands (_)Whose trace are these wounds? I am naked. [naked] prominent blue grooves, - Green, - Blue, - Red! Red whispers(./:) on your skin crawls _my skin_ Is pale(.) your skin(,/.) Stretches _sketch_ [sleepy] - are you dead - are you? - you dead? my skin(!/?) I draw a line. _grooves_ [groove] are you (…/?) Red pours. Pours (./?) _Pouring_ Hanging. Burning. _flow_ The flow of the artery in the groove of my skin. [Soil] I was sleeping. What color was the soil? do you know? are you… red...

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I’m paper sack brown, and I’m still put down. The knowledge unexposed, the faith in my soul. The voice, strictly bold. The vibes I send, It’s all inside of the skin I’m in. You look, you see- But please believe, there’s definitely, definitely more to me. Reach in, visualize… Even close your eyes. Feel with the sound, as you’re mesmerized. Now you see me, now you don’t. Open your other...

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the sun's caress glitters off your sultry skin while a balmy breeze caught in your hair gives way deep in your eyes is where i want to drown basking in the taste of summertime sorbet AP: Honorable Mention 2025 Posted on March 30, 2025 ...

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The little beads rise to the surface of her skin. The skin that seems to have 'gotten scratched by the cat' One too many times. But as she goes to erase all evidence of her deflect She feels it sting. A sting she knows all too well. Her blood feeling the tension of the gleaming blade against her skin The sting comes and...

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Try to fight your own figure shape of yourself will eat you take what's left of this mess open your mind to new places. Taste your salty skin cells repeat what you already knew mistakes are like empty fortune disappear there is nothing to fear....

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I don’t know how many times I have shed my old skin, like a moth seeking light under the moonlit sky, Leaving behind pieces of myself that no longer knew my name, shadows of a silent past, I wandered through labyrinths of memories, seeking answers in echoes lost in time, Wondering if change is just another facet of...

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