Excruciating, this exfoliation,
this blistering in the heat
of battle.
Defenceless,
skin peels,
flayed offal,
diseased dandruff
powdering slumped
shoulders.
Let it go.
Let it
fall
kissed
by
gravity,
one with
the grave. For
unless dead skin cells
are scrubbed off –
loofah of life –
regeneration
cannot build life,
caress fresh complexion
with rosebuds.
This is but the
paring,
the shucking of
detritus. Your real and true
lie
underneath…
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
Melody, your gift of wordsmithing through the ordinary things of life amazes me. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks Glenda!
Loved this!
Thank you very much!!
Ouch-y. Perhaps a balm of Gilead would help 😉
You said it! I bet that’s good stuff! 🙂