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Tips of fingers graze,

while tips of tongues explore. 

Lips pressed fervently against skin,

while arms and legs tangle until one starts

where another begins.

Flushed cheeks and heavy sighs;

trembling touches trace a path,

searching under layers 

for the sinew and muscle 

that make you who you are. 

I’ll cast aside my insides, 

displacing my entrails so you

can fit in your rightful place. 

Your fist has ripped at the 

blackness of my heart,

snipping the strings

and clotting the arteries.

The cavity left behind aches. 

My body is clay set fire.

I’ve turned to glass,

fragile and opaque.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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