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7d
“What is this?” he runs his fingers across my spine “A new discovery!”
The mole on my back, it’s cancer probably, I say
He laughs, a milky one drunk on the night and my room
His eyes swallow me but not entirely
A bitter taste, probably my sickness, catches
In his throat. He coughs. I apologize, he
Doesn’t know what is really laying inside of me
“You’re beautiful” but his half-blind can’t see my whole
I am a giver, I tell him
He says he knows
The blanket between my headboard and the wall
Says he is too
A new trick I have never seen
Or thought of, it sits there being smashed like my insides
As he plunges into me
I cry out
It is lovely, he must know this
I never meant it like this, to come to you
Bruised and ready
All open mouths and compliments
Hair almost like mine, minus the color
He tells me he almost killed himself
I kiss his chest and say me too
There is something about pain that makes me want to
Eat it whole
I see it in you and I am hungry to take it away
Palm full of grief and I will hold it for you
Place it on my spine and carry it until my
Back snaps and I can no longer walk
I mean, this is the first time
I mean our first time and you
A pleasant surprise, I mean a pleasant
Song I have heard before but forgot about
You play loud through my speakers
And my heart can no longer be heard
I mean we are just two poets
Writing poetry with our bodies
I mean please don’t go in the morning
I mean, will you stay for coffee?
Written by
Rhianna Powell
58
   BR Dragos
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