All of me/Why not take all of me/Can’t you see/I’m no good without you/Take my lips/I want to loose them/Take my arms/I’ll never use them
He cut and diced in a white hat
She fetched and carried what he diced and cut
He fed her, seeing red at her clumsy hands on busy nights.
Once a week, she begged the room to take her and the room ate her up
He did not hover above, he did not lie below, but he wore that stupidly clean white hat.
He called her KitKat.
He said he wants two of his fat, oily bars in her smart, fleshy mouth
KitKat half smiles, her insides hollowed out by that sick joke.
She was paid, wordless, pressed against, still
ridden by blameless guilt.
Lying down like an upset wine bottle,
smeared across the floor
by men, everywhere, in white hats.
Image credit: Ky via Flickr, CC 2.0; image has been cropped
For Cherwell, maintaining editorial independence is vital. We are run entirely by and for students. To ensure independence, we receive no funding from the University and are reliant on obtaining other income, such as advertisements. Due to the current global situation, such sources are being limited significantly and we anticipate a tough time ahead – for us and fellow student journalists across the country.
So, if you can, please consider donating. We really appreciate any support you’re able to provide; it’ll all go towards helping with our running costs. Even if you can't support us monetarily, please consider sharing articles with friends, families, colleagues - it all helps!
Thank you!
