Saturday, March 2, 2013

my stomach is killing me
and so are you

it grumbles like I
grumble while I
sneak peeks at your ribs,
take mental measurements
of your wrists,
make mental note of that tone that you hit
when you giggle and say “stah-ahp”
(makes the boys go, “a-ahhh.”)

it gurgles like I
gurgle when I
choke on my words
as I
try to emulate your voice

channel your wit and your ability to command 
a goddamn room (all eyes on you now,
aren’t you a champ, now?)

my stomach is killing me
because of you

but I care more about the concavity of yours
than taking care of my own, so
I guess maybe it’s just
jealous too.

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