I wish I were my intestines;

they are needed by someone.

She is every organ.


Once, I ached to be her

friend, fur shed, toenails

clipped, emerald eyes.


Red cloth from her cap wedged

in the crevices of my teeth,

wedged in the crevices of my brain.


No longer am I alone,

my stomach the shelter

for my new companion.


Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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