I have a sunburn.
It’s the first time in years.
I had forgotten. About the soreness.
The feeling of heat flowing out from me, like I am on fire. The reddened, dying skin shrinking.
Itching for days.
Then it begins to bubble. Small drops of fluid under the damaged flesh.
Eruption. Cooling for just an instant.
Then the peel.
I shiver, breathless at the barely audible sound.
Almost a sigh, as I pull.
The sickly, satisfying, tugging sensation as old the separates from the new.
Exhale.
Bizarre fascination. I can’t help it.
I reach for another loosened piece of flesh.
Corned Beef Hashtag 
Hmm, don’t think I have read a poem about burn blisters before, but it’s a bit like squeezing pimples…… 😀
Yes it is very much like that. Despite the many essentially permanent imperfections of scars from knife wounds, grease splatters, contact burns, and knee reconstruction, I can not abide the irritation of life’s temporary blemishes. I suppose it’s a metaphor for something Something that it is probably best not to dwell to deeply on.