You say, my newborn face dwells only in the frames of your ancient house,
and my purity was left in my mother’s womb and arms
So now, you try to cleanse me with your precious soap,
Scour… Scrub… Rub…
and then you conceal me with lotion, some powder, more perfume!
And yet some more, make me sore
Chafed. Excoriated. Distorted.
But I am the one who chokes on all the bitter pills you have to swallow
I am the one who burns your cigarettes as I varnish your thoughts,
and engrave your soul within my poetry
whilst you hide along its dusky alley
I am the one who can assemble your back like a jigsaw puzzle
I know your true colors, your soft spots
I know how to get you down on your knees
I know how we collide in the dark
For I’ve memorized the pieces and the layers of you,
and I’ve traveled the twisted lines on your spine too
I reside within your core, within the crevices of your bones
I am the scabs on your wounds, the callus on your fingers, the dust in your hair,
your best keeper
I am your shadows and I linger like the smell of cigarettes on your damp skin
Oh, my dearest self!
Stop excavating your flesh for my corpse
‘Cause I’m never ever gonna be away,
Eat me whole.
Read more of Eli’s writing at Moonlit Pieces