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Spaghetti knots

Leftover dinner

Chip a tooth from the Universe,

Or maybe just kiss a bit too hard

And you’ll find that any love story you tell

Can be told with the same taste

And smell

And eventual bite-marks that never quite heal

Because for a while, a shorter while than you knew they knew you knew,

Another person was consuming you like food,

Chewing you,

Swallowing you,

And living off you for you because of you

Yet the meal runs out,

The stomach gurgles,

And vomit spews through the holes of our fingers

Like laughter lacking control

No matter how many handfuls we take

It seeps back out

Onto the floor in front of us

Is there blood

Is there food

It must be cleaned up.

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)

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