Runcible Spoon

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You're going to kiss me, I'll turn out the lights.

I've been hurt before-- can't you tell--

my bulging eyes, such anorexic sight?

I've waited by a phone, I've been through hell


with artificial violent men who fell

away, I'm sure, to be with thinner girls

who felt number than me, smoother belles

not awkward like me, who awed the crooked world


with straight teeth.  The hottest men were cold,

but I have you now, though we've never kissed,

and your rather silent-- I'll fit that mold--

I'll wear a gag and open my eyes much less.


Sit down, my head on your lap, I'm 29

by the way, and running out of time.