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Candlesticked

I dreamt that wax

sqeezed out from my ears

like toothpaste.

Dripped onto my feet

casting a mold.

Statuing my legs.

Zipping up my hips.

I dreamt my throat

was a metal pipe

running dry.

Vibrating echoes

cut short and

replaced with a dusty ellipsis.

 

Passively shrinking

inside a shell

that I'll never be

strong enough to crack.

 

How did this happen?

How did the thing we're made of

become the thing to **** us?

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Written by
tiffany-norman
Published
May 8, 2016
Lines·Words
20·75
Tags
#death#feminism#oppression#feminist#womanhood#passive#wax
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