I don’t like your freckles

They actually make me really mad.
I don’t like that they are red and there’s no shape to be had.
I don’t like that I tried to make them into a constellation.
So that perhaps one day, they would suddenly have meaning and it would be some sort of revelation.

But they weren’t they were just stupid red freckles on your thighs.
A reminder of you that I so much despise.
I often wonder If your wife tried connecting them with her lips…
Just before you sent me a message to tell me that it was me that you missed.

I wonder if you’re freckles were traced by her fingertips…
While you solicited your body when in front of me you would sit.
I am curious because your freckles really piss me off…
Like a leopard to its spots you were full of them and count, I soon lost.

Your lies soon became my truth and at the sight of the first red freckle on my body I knew what I needed to do.
I carved them out of my flesh…
Put them in an envelope and sent them out with the rest.

I thought she should know of the red freckles that you left on my skin …
She is worthy of better and not melanin-astic sin.
So when you are all alone and start to connect the dots…

Start with the red freckles on your thigh leading to your…

This poem is not about freckles…

For those who listen between the lines.
Elaine Degro