Charcoal curves get on my nerves
especially when someone thinks
that words are just words
I'm all knotted up again
like the hair on your new lover's head
after a night not sleeping in your bed
and I'm bruising like a fallen peach
no one reached for
when she was on the tree
but I'm a bench and you sit
on top of me
digging at me with your knees
I'd rather you sink into me
with your teeth
one bite and you might know I'm sweet
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