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.
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