I am blood, flesh, intestine, bone
on the underside of a wax figure.
I am not human, but I bleed all the same.
Lick my skin, let the paraffin melt on your tongue.
Sweet peach scent, the flavor nothing like it.
The dry skin of your lips has impressed it’s texture onto mine,
I cannot forget you.
Until the wax is re-sculpted.
Every bite taken out of me has impressed the peaks of your teeth into my body.
There is an underlying heartbreak in violation,
in the permanence of your hands.