Rayon

Her press on nails graced her sunken in cheek Tracing the bone that seemed to cut like glass Remembering days of endless driving Her high heels out the window The sun whispered sweet nothings But no one knew how personal those were And here she is At the vanity of a shitty motel Dusting powder across lesions that spattered her skin Bloody patches on her skin Just like holes in her skin She cries Removing the brown wig that she tossed for years Brushing it in her hands The tears held on as if they didn’t want to let go Standing She slips off her briefs Gazing into the mirror Horrified at the person staring back at her Invisible bones now visible Crevices and cavities too deep Webs of veins that were colored too brightly Wearing the anatomy of a man that was no longer there A body not worth surgery Wiping sweat off her forehead Smearing her drawn on eyebrows All she can hear is “Your mother and I gave birth to a son named Raymond. What happened?” That name echoed in her head Drawing pleads from her ears She collapsed Her thighs bruised from one too many needle-pricks Tracing each hole with her finger As if to draw out an answer She A forgotten woman Who only tried to cope Her t-shirts were too big “Raymond, Your T-Cell count is too low” A forgotten woman Who only tried to cope “Is this ‘cause you’re a faggot, Raymond?” A forgotten woman Who only tried to cope “Raymond, there is no cure for AIDS” She wept Mascara staining her pale face Press on nails clutching her arms Hugging herself Because no one else was would Rayon died alone She was no longer forced to love from an infected vessel To hurt from a torn home To pray on laced knees This hotel room became a mausoleum Smelling of death and perfume Rayon was a forgotten woman Who only needed to cope But exiled by a community of people For loving too much

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