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My girlfriend is better than yours- have you seen her?

 

Her hands are vast- I inhale her palms and exhale her wrists- her fingers enclose my bed like a ribcage.

She doesn’t need pads or tampons; her menses fill my home, at an angle, like a flowing sheet in front of the window. Erupting up from the floor, down from the ceiling- where her ankles meet by the fan. And when the light peers through the window the room fills with rose. I can use her pink hair as a blanket, and her vulva as a pillow. Her teeth are square pearls erupting from the wall; my fan hangs from one earlobe, and a light bulb from the other.

And wonderful eyes: one green and one blue. One small enough to carry with me, the other explodes across my field of vision every morning, and watches me under my covers; now reflecting a soft lavender light.

Each breast towers between rooms, her white skin papers my walls- insulated with sweet delicate marrow. Her heart beats through the tiles in my shower; her urethra snakes through the pipes and flows constantly, her throat gurgles always beneath the toilet seat.

And she never talks, her tongue is a light mist, I can walk through it and feel her words, cold and wet, sticky against my chest-

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