Everyone is in love with their morsel
Clinging onto the dorsal, the big red
Sails of life flapping and beating against
The breath of this big, bad world.
My morsel is purple- it’s shiny with a shine
Way brighter than Cullen’s- not sullen
But pulsing with the harp twang of heart
Strings pulled to their utmost taught.
You taught me a lesson you tenant of my
Rib cage- waged a time war with bagpipes
Blaring loud in what was left of the left side of me
I’ll slide over the walls of my morsel and yes,
I’ll dress your set but you’d better bet that
I’ll never forget….your silence.
My morsel is scrumptious, and my
Voluptuousness is reflected in its tiny body
Everyone is in love with their crumb
Sometimes smaller than my thumb, a
Speckle, a freckle, a lovely tick that is yours
Like your shadow is yours, like inconvenience
Is Gore’s. And I know Ben Nye gore tastes
Like peppermint and here’s a hint:
That splinter in your atrium? It’s
Nothing more than a hollow- carpe diem
Must follow and just like I need to swallow
My love for him and cherish my speck.
So do I.
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