Thread: Bad Skin

Bad Skin
I sit at the bar, mug of tea steaming at my elbow, when I am
overwhelmed by the scent of a young woman.

She stands beside me and orders two Baileys with ice.
I breathe in her smell, and turn towards this slip of a girl, making
some comment about the drink, to which she replies in German
accented English. “I have never tried it before”, leaning towards me
as she speaks, her hair on my shoulder, her neck a handsbreadth
away from my lips.

Then she drifts back to her table, Baileys and milk jug in hand.
I wink at the barman as I reach for my tea.
He leans over and tells me she has bad skin.
But I did not notice, and I don’t know what the XXXX he means.

All in all this is wonderful little poem. Simple and described quite well. If I could make one suggestion; get rid of the last line. I think it might be for the best, but it is up to you.