Your Baby

1 min
2 votes
In competition
Image of 2020

I swallow your words like baby food.

They’re smooth,

and they should make me feel whole,

like bodies being pressed together,

sweat amalgamating sweat,

skin gliding skin,

yet they still have the griminess of

processed foods and facades.


I want to rinse my mouth

to forget your taste,

but I obsess being spoon-fed your lies

in order to quell my hunger

for something more,

a truth more digestible.


I clench the spoon

that you've graciously offered me,

and I hold in my choke. 


Lips agape, 

but nothing comes out.

Your voice interrupts me—



In competition

2 votes

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