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Lipstick and Broken Glass
From the very beginning,
you said you had a weakness for fine china.
You said my smooth, porcelain texture made you foam at the mouth,
made you ravenous to devour me
then to set my remains in your china cabinet.
But you-
you are a connoisseur of teacups and saucers and many other fragile things,
and I-
I am just a glittering pile of shards
the remnants of many different lives
not all of them my own.
You came for a teacup.
I gave you its handle.
You wanted a woman who was whole.
I could only give you her smile.
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