I won't always be there, but I'm lying beneath the surface.

I've missed you lately,

so I'm back like a flare.

Giving you a rosy kiss,

dryness,

discomfort on your cheek.

The wind infuriates me,

so I peel your largest organ.

Eventually I'll calm,

but I'll be sure to visit again soon.

Yours always,

Rosacea