Is it a question of faking?
I say yes, I lie down corpse-like
let you say what you need
let you suck
ear ridge tight, lifted, then moist
a continuum of the body elapsed
I say yes, to your tormenting
to your tie-me-down stare
To the moon repeatedly emerging
out from the space between
your eyelids
And when your face, honey crusted,
rotted out from birth,
turns lifeless
I know where you keep the matches
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