The moss appeared on my skin two days ago
I had heard of the moss, seen it on others
Mostly in movies
A few young people
Mostly I saw it on old people
The moss was so dark, so grown in
It was part of any elder’s skin
When I saw the moss on me
I jumped in the shower
Ran the water so hot
In hopes the moss would fall off of my skin
But instead I wiped away the foggy mirror
Looked at my puffy eyes and moss shoulders
I didn’t look like me, not the me that I know
And others could tell too
All the virgin shoulders and their sympathetic eyes
Yesterday the moss grew quick
It outlines my body like depression glow
The worst part about it is
Sometimes I forget the moss is there
I laugh or dance or watch shitty TV
And sometimes it’s like I’ll never have to
live with it
The moss and me, we’re trying to be friends
As much as you can be
With anything that breaks your heart
Or anything
That makes you feel like a total drama queen
I know everyone’s moss grows differently
Everyone treats it differently
Some let it free and others
Act as if the moss is poisonous
They clip it or engulf themselves in flames
trying to burn it away
Not me and my moss, no way
Sometimes it’s a blanket and a movie reel
of our memories together
Sometimes it’s as prickly as a cactus
Needles point out of skin and I warn people
to stay away
Like I’m something sharp, dangerous
Because that’s how it feels
Somehow the moss is both soft and painful
Damaging and bursting with love
I’m not moss-covered yet, more in moss limbo
Waiting for it to swallow me whole
And when it does, and it will soon
I hope time will grow flowers
In all of my crevices
I hope I will turn towards the sky
And think of her
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 