Your stomach is real, I can feel it,
More than the womb, through
The first petal I ever adore,

Your rosey skin
In a burn, moonlight-glazed,
Silvery, beautiful.

Your blinking pores, angelic,
No one breathes, I
Know it from the very beginning.

Heavenly and emotionless,
A useless throat,
Ungrateful neck,

Cracking voice and weak whistle,
Childlikely broken.
Your stomach is real, I

Know it from the very beginning,
Dry and sour, clever and hygienic,
Scentless and free,

Beautiful.