【by Emma Markowski】

Skin. Red. From pushing and squeezing. One on your nose one on your cheek so many on your forehead. Attempts of coverage, anxious asks of visibility (but nobody ever cares or sees the way you do). 

Skin. Red. Blood and bumps caused by a sharp blade unfazed by smooth cream. For you or for him or for the world you don’t know, but you continue. It’s routine.  

Skin. Red. Thighs and clothes and sheets sticky with the color. You clean your skin and your clothes and the sheets with all the tricks you have learned (it’s also routine). 

Skin. Red. An angry color that fades to an ugly yellow. It’s a problem you’ve never dealt with before and you’re unsure how to fix it. You don’t own enough turtlenecks. Your friends point and laugh (and you do too). 

Skin. Red. Around you nailbeds from as early as you can remember. Fingers to mouth both absentmindedly and purposefully (sometimes unknowingly and sometimes to hurt). You broke the habit at some point but it has come back stronger. You don’t know what changed.  

Skin. Red. Lips painted an unnatural shade of it. The skin around them dyed a similar shade, from a bite/a sip/a kiss/a wipe/a mistake.  

Skin. Red. Once more so, then pinkish, then just slight discolorations dotted on knees and elbows, shins and hands. Remnants of the past, of summers long and hot, of clumsy toddler feet and wiped away tears, of aching childhood nostalgia.  

Skin. Red. Tips of ears burning and inflamed. A wrong answer in class. A wrong selection of words to the wrong person. A wrong step in a public place. A wrong feeling for something you’d like to feel right. The wrong color rises to broadcast your mistakes.  

Skin. Red. Your nose and cheeks tinted by the cold air. It is biting and your eyes are watering and suddenly you are 8 again. Your mom warned you to wear a warmer jacket, and you didn’t listen (but you will next time).  

Skin. Red. The sun is finally shining, and it shows on your shoulders and on your arms and on the tip of your nose. It stings but you are happy, content to let the heat of the day wash away the fear of potential blemishes.