feeling like an inadequate
salty ball of flesh
I drink and drink
and crunch
ice between my teeth.
a few too many vast valleys and curves
amounts of skin warm to the touch
I want to be touched.
I want to be
triggered
by fingertips rustling
(and maybe the hair that's coarser and hidden)
but!
sometimes those soft playing tips
turn into prods pushing at my fat
to see what's underneath.
I wonder if those others
(the boys I kissed)
liked the taste of my lips
as they ignored the flesh
and felt for the
hairs that trigger.