the meat butcher’s son

i fell in love with the meat butcher’s son
whose pale skin bruised my memory–
eternally clenched fists,
white knuckles tasting bitterness

his eyes glowed fluorescent blue, those
bulbs overlooking rows of raw meat

for a time i believed they shone for me,
a prime pick above a pile of choices–
beautifully marbled, not too fat,
and didn’t talk back

then my muscles yielded to his heirloom hammer
beating me into sweet, soft tenderness with
fingers plucking out whatever bone left inside
before searing me in sourness and fire

who could have blamed me
when all i wanted was his mouth to taste
and the entirety of myself consumed?

i fell in love with the meat butcher’s son
whose teeth were too soft to chew me, anyways–
i fed him yes sirs on a silver spoon instead
to shut his whining demands for a taller highchair.

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Published by

c.v. grace

here lies my veins, tangled and suffocating.

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