Pink Skin

To be thought of as your sister,

Would be the worst sentence ever.

Slowly fading from your door of elites,

Like a shadow of gray in a crowd,

Keeps me in my place:

Complacent, passive, and never around.

Always available, only a phone call away

I’m perfect for a breezy day

Or should you ask, foreplay.

My new seat, to eternally fantasize from the sidelines of your life.

Behind a velvet rope with envy in my flashbulb,

I idolize redheads, all on a red carpet…

Their appeal to you? Sex.

My cheeks and porous skin, now soaked to the core,

Slick and wet like your hair after showers of hours

(Remember when we kissed in the rain at the festival?)

The tone of a mocking mother is like cold, cold water, “Are you suffering?”

Infections bleed my brain! Infections of the soul kind!

I am replaced by an Angel, She tortures my sky that used to be blue,

Her position towers over mine, an Executive of Success where I failed.

Your Co-Producer lover,

She soars higher, further, above me.

But it’s not right to stalk such flights,

Flights of impossible height,

Flights of fantasy.

For the sting of reality is

More searing than the sun boils on my skin,

My pale, red headed skin,

Left to fade

Away.

Author's Note

Any and all feedback is desired.
Thanks so much for reading.