Skin off my lips

I peel the skin off my lips
When I'm nervous
Or stressed, or upset,

my nails grab edges and pull off dry skin, bleeding and exposing freshness within
I'm not sure why it keeps me calm,

A certain kind of control, I make it, I break it, I own it, I dispose it. I use it and I abuse it.

I kissed a boy, and now I scrape my lips. Remove him, destroy him. I don't want to retain or maintain him. He means nothing to me.

Peel off the skin, layer by layer, making holes in my kisses.

I go and kiss more boys,

It's only skin off my lips