Three out of eleven

My body, calm as the night

Until the needle that is morning pierces through

Until the needle that is you

Breaks the tender shell in which I hide

My most valuable possessions

You crack my night open like an egg

So you can see the sun rise

So I can see the surprise

In your eyes

When you can’t find the yolk

You thought you had evoked

Child-sized adult heart

You made me feel like a child

at twenty one

I did not know my heart could still become

so child-sized for someone

La petit mort

I stand in front of you

A stripped bottle of wine

No age, no place of birth

No knowledge of what I’m worth

And then, I find myself expecting the worst

Expecting to be used because I’m warm and soft

And moist

Weeping from a place I know you happen to desire most

Struck by a thought

More vigorously than lightning could

‘Do I crave any part of you at all?’

Because the land that is my body

Though visited by you

Remains undiscovered



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