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When I was thirteen, perhaps
You lay down upon me
Saw the stretching growth, curvature of my stomach
And named the skin, fat
Tracing the score of my breasts,
dainty floral fabric like a drifting pollen on your hairless chest
What I was before this, vague and unformed; bacteria strands
drifting to suck from some portioned love
When our blood almost mingles, it is oil and water
Viciously stirring the mixture, I have taken over the experiment
and wear its proof on my waiting naked outline
Appetites are lost and gained, my bones are a tumour
and their filthy cells seep into the brain, chewing and spitting-
beg for the congealed desire
years after, I am pavlovian pain
I cradle and comfort your own with my mothering chest
suckle from the sour substance, some permeable glue to hold together that which is broken
as I crack under our ungodly synthesis-my unkind words that remain unspoken
Watch how my stomach rolls and shakes,
growing and shrinking into our unmakeable ends
of all the things you could take
that which was real
and that which is fake