Sensual Surgery


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When these lids split
and the wet spheres in my face
roll back in position to sit
I awake feeling solidity
at each finger tip
in between the valley of scabs
where in the night my skin has ripped
ignoring these marks as innocuous
sailing through the day forgetting the obvious
back to black as these lids kiss
through the silence amongst the mist
she has come again tonight
to claim my skin as her cutting board
investing bliss through tiny slits
……
       …the sensual surgeon who’d rather leave her love letters etched in my epidermis

When the scabs heal, I’ll read your story through my scars, and never forget your purpose within my stars

It is as if, you, shine through the prism, of my prison’s bars.

Legacy.

-S

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About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Sensual Surgery

  1. Angel says:

    deep.

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