Moles

My ring finger

Not quite my back, but not quite my torso; the expanse of flesh where they meet

Painted across my skin like constellations.

Little

black

MOLES

They look like they have been carved into my skin by a manic Michelangelo;;

 

Because I am not FLAWLESS

I am proudly, unabashedly FLAWED

This poem is about: 
Me

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