Fingerprints


Day 12. Prompt: write a transformation poem. 



I’m covered in hidden fingerprints
the kind hot showers can’t wash off
although I still try after all these years
sometimes.

They lie in inky layers
beneath my skin like bruises,
each an entry in a database,
imprinted.

They are my shields in love and battle
but I would lay them down if only
I could spend just one day living and loving
my own skin.

What do you think?

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