Birthmark (Edit Two)

[fuzzyllama1]

Birthmark
 
The birthmark beneath your
left breast was the most
perfect thing about you.
Or was it under the right?
 
You were pink;
filled me with perfume
and pencil skirts.
Flowers seemed unjust.
 
Edible bouquets of orange love letters,
each one peeled preciously. You loved
the way they smelled,
sweet and stringy. You saved the rinds,
they stained the box
and left a sweet, citrus scent.
 
A grey room, liquid sheets
that always seemed to glow in your colors.
No better place to mix
in my whites and carbonated coppers.
Spilled out, all on the bed, poured into
a foamy head with brown freckles and tan spots.
Just like the birthmark beneath your left breast.

Or was it under the right?

Edit One

Birthmark
 
I can’t quite remember,
or I made myself forget;
ten-dollar rum made for smooth
beaches and blue water,
waves coming to shore in central Ohio
 
The birthmark beneath your
left breast was the most 
perfect thing about you.
 
Or was it under the right?
 
You were pink;
filled me with perfume
and pencil skirts.
Flowers seemed unjust
 
Bouquets of love letters,
teasingly twisted,
like western origami. You loved 
how they smelled
 
Your gut was always stronger
than mine. Complex biology
made simple, women have wider hips
men have wider eyes.
I saw her coming,
You felt her
 
I spread myself too thin,
130 pounds to begin with.
She was thin too,
no birthmark.
Gave me her mac and cheese,
somehow, it didn’t feel like 
she was sharing
 
Took me five years to walk away 
from our park bench
 
I’ve had many women
Who’ve sat with me there,
wandered through my hedge maze.
I always brought them in
and out by helicopter
 
I forgot to make an entrance
and an exit;
You were the only one
who figured out 
You could just step over the edges.



Original

Birthmark

I can’t quite remember
or I made myself forget;
Ten dollar rum made of smooth
beaches and blue water,
Waves coming to shore in central Ohio
 
The birthmark beneath your
left breast was the most perfect 
thing about you
 
or was it under the right?
 
You were pink
Filled me with perfume
and pencil skirts
Flowers seemed unjust

Bouquets of love letters,
Teasingly twisted,
like western origami
You loved how they smelled
 
I spread myself too thin,
130 pounds to begin with
She was thin too,
No birthmark.
Gave me her mac and cheese,
didn’t feel like 
She was sharing though
 
Took me five years
to walk away from our park bench
 
I’ve had many women
sit with me there,
wandering through my hedge maze
I always brought them in
and out by helicopter
 
I forgot to make an entrance
and an exit
You were the only one
who figured out 
You could just step over the edges.