Tautened the corset again and again.
My steel body wouldn’t budge.
It took a while
To not fail him like my vertical smile.
Reminded myself, to scrub my bottom again and again.
My stiff bag of bones wouldn’t bend.
Spared some hours
To be clean enough for his drool to devour.
The clatter of my feet
Dragging down the staircase
Brought me to the broken vase
Mirroring my state.
Making sure to shine my ring’s shine,
I wait for him to arrive
From the buzzing hive
Surely done being alive
As the clock ticks one forty-five.
While waiting for him to rough caress and
Fill me up with
All toxins there’s to spill
Or all spins he needs to kill
And brim me up with boastings of
How many girls hit on him or
How many times he could hit me
And teem me up with all the complaints of
How his hand-span is too short or
Feels so, when stuck inside my walls
And knock me over the edge with all the accusations of
How my edges are too stained or
How he is sure it’s not his!
I can’t help but admire the fancy name I inherit
For just a spit bucket!
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