Bodies

My body has been held
by arms that are not yours.
It has been cradled
by a body that has seen bruises,
cuts and stitches –
by a body that has held
many women before me.

My lips have been kissed
by lips that are not yours.
It has been nibbled
by teeth, that left them puffy,
bloody and hungry.

My legs have felt the weight of legs
that are not your own.
It has seen the curves and muscles
of tree-trunk-heavy legs,
and felt someone-elses toes
digging in to the sheets beneath me.

My body has shivered
to the ripples that have been created
by fingers other than yours.
It has felt the tiny electric shocks
ignite fire underneath my skin,
and prick up in anticipation.

I have held a heart
that doesn’t beat inside you.
I have made it pump in
irregular beats,
and listened to its music
with my ears.

My body is a temple
with scars and marks.
It holds sacred memories
of visitors and temporary residents.

I am not clean.

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