My Atmosphere

I love roses
when I smell them
I bleed. I’m full
of crimson
scratches heal
to brown
scabs
some ooze
infection

leave scars and
don’t go away

I still
feel
the thick tissue
covering my tan
skin
marked.

No disguise
I push everyone off me
I can’t
bear
the weight
the hot
heavy
breathing

I don’t know
about you
but the humidity
kills me

the rain
will let the pressure
out of my
atmosphere

I might
be able
to breathe.