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.