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Daddy's Little Pumpkin

"October is like home to me; and I’m home sick."— Leah Jean

By Alexia VillanuevaPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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We are the ones with autumn in our veins.— A.R. 

You can say my skin

Is orange and isn’t filled

With sweet potato bruises.

You can say the black

Cat doesn’t cross my path

In unison, caramel becomes

The yellow monarch butterflies

On my ribcage.

My tongue a swollen

Cup of warts waiting to

Explode into unicorn

Glitter like all little girls.

Pumpkins for parents

As my body is a sinful

Excuse for becoming daddy’s

Little pumpkin.

While, Halloween explores

Your body like wide canvas

Of unexplored colors

With bristles dipped in

Hot apple cider causing

Boils.

Becoming a witches

Dinner, a pumpkin

To be carved in her image

Like mage without name.

My skin is peeled, body

Beat with whisks, dumped

In garbage bags, and blue

Bowls of satanic linege

Teeth pulled by monsters

Of daddy’s good nature

And step-mommies witchy

Like behavior howling

To moons that never shine.

I became daddy’s little

Pumpkin the first moonlight

My skin was peeled,

Body baked in honor

To moons that never shined,

I could no longer see.

inspirational
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