Metastasizing Was Too Many SyllablesA Poem by AlainaA Villanelle about the beauty and horror of breasts.They aren’t the plastic breasts Daddy buys you at sixteen. Her creamy flesh molds in my hand The scar below her right n****e makes them perfect. She’ll ask why I don’t wish they were bigger I can’t stand thinking of someone cutting them open. They aren’t the plastic breasts Daddy buys you at sixteen. Each makes a perfect pillow when I sleep. I open my eyes to pink peaks. The scar below her right n****e makes them perfect. Hanging them in my face when she mounts me. They lay pressed against her chest after orgasm. They aren’t the plastic breasts Daddy buys you at sixteen. I kiss the crooked flaw when she lets me after we make love. The scar below her right n****e makes them perfect. Each month her lumps grew tender, my soft tongue couldn’t dull the pain. They weren’t the plastic breasts Daddy bought you at sixteen. The scar below her right n****e made them perfect. © 2008 AlainaReviews
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5 Reviews Added on March 31, 2008 Last Updated on May 9, 2008 AuthorAlainaTampa, FLAboutI'm a college student just trying to find my place in a world that isn't as excepting as I hoped. I am 20 years old and a Writing major at the University of Tampa. I used to write a lot of fiction. .. more..Writing
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