I kissed the sun
at summer camp, I blushed so hard it
burned. I peeled back swatches of
filmy skin as if I were revealing
a secret. Under myself
there is more of me,
and it hurts, and it is the same.
Aimee Lowenstern is a twenty-two-year-old poet living in Nevada. She has cerebral palsy and is a big fan of glitter. Her work can be found in several literary journals, including Soliloquies Anthology and The Gateway Review.