A Dichotomy of Scorn and Selflessness

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And, out of nowhere, your voice arose from the massacre.

You looked at me and I felt that my grasp lacked scissors.

Your body approached mine, I must have swallowed rocks.

As your mouth opens, I can sense worms crawling out of my ears.

 

It is you, I’ve pretended to love what I’ve pretended to see.

Your hands, hidden in every single pocket, were fidgeting

Against me. The words cascading out of your throat brought

The force of a fist with them and nothing was heard.

 

When your skin crossed mine I could recognise the face

Behind the face, the scream beyond the courteous smile.

And I tried to keep the image of you, your teeth sinking into

My scalp to be fed, to be complimented, to be sustained.

 

And I thought this horror show has two heads and one of

Them is my own. I let the seeds be planted, the venom next

To my own face, disowned, shared, emptied, absorbed, stolen.

I invited a thief into my body and believed in gods and grimaces.

Peter_Paul_Rubens_-_Woman_with_a_Mirror_-_WGA20336

“Woman with a Mirror”by Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640)

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