the sweetest flesh is behind the bruise
the sweetest flesh is behind the bruise
we know from the earth, and the fruits of her womb
the sweetest flesh, is behind the bruise
if I were all-hard, I wouldn't need scars
but I'm soft, I am soft as a rule
and just like bread isn't chained to its crust
I am soft, I am soft as a rule
my palms are like angels
my knuckles are not
center-stage
my teeth only interrupt:
my giving lips,
my patient tongue
I am soft, under bruises
under scars, I am sweet
because I am soft,
and I'm sweet as a rule
and if you come, kiss, my defenses
I promise
they will melt and give in.
if you remind me,
with patience, (with tongue,)
that they are not all that I am
Comments