Dead Skin

Dead Skin

 I carried you around

Like stratum corneum

A layer of dead skin

Itching to be exfoliated

Wiped

With cotton balls

Moistened with scented oils

 How my skin glowed

When they dropped you

In the waste basket

At the dermatologist office

And ran my credit card

To pay for the 30 minute facial

The time it took

Between lugging you around

And closing the lid

On you

A few blackheads

And some ingrown hairs

 My epidermis?

I was politely informed

You never got that deep.

 

 

 

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