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

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