Hearing your name was
picking prematurely
wincing at the ripping
a fragile, bright red
showing under a
brown, broken shell
new skin meant
to be tough but
not quite yet.
My fingers couldn’t help
wandering to the site of us
as I wondered if I was fine
when thinking of you drove
me to scratch, your face a
bittersweet blow to the bruise
until finally, I let you go
the itch disappeared
and I stopped picking.
You faded away
faded into my flesh
memories marking me
a dark island of our past
floating forever
in the sea of my skin
the scar, a remnant
of hurt now healed
ready for the next fall.
Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash
Eloisa Perez-Lozano
Eloísa Pérez-Lozano writes poems and essays about Mexican-American identity, women’s issues, and motherhood. She graduated from Iowa State University with a B.S. in psychology and an M.S. in journalism and mass communications. A 2016 Sundress Publications Best of the Net nominee, her work has been featured in “The Texas Observer,” “Houston Chronicle,” and “Poets Reading the News,” among others. She lives with her family in Houston, Texas.
