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11/16/11

by Meghan Helmich

There's nothing wrong with me
and my serpentine grip
around the throats of the ones I love.
I have to squeezebox the air from lungs
to make room for my passion.

They'll understand
the temporary discomfort is more
than a reasonable request
once I breathe new life
into their mouths
like fire into clay,
shaping new insides for each
of my loves.

11/18/2011

Author's Note: And then they will love me.

Posted on 11/18/2011
Copyright © 2025 Meghan Helmich

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Sal Haefling on 11/19/11 at 02:14 AM

ahhh dismembering body parts and putting them back inside!!! OPERATION! Love that game!!! LOL!!

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