Bullfighter · The Art of Poetry

Bullfighter

From the perch

To the pedestal

I don’t recognize my funny little hands at your sides,

Nails half bloody, broken from the needing

But they’re doing animal things

the reconnaissance of my heart

once our home

I used to wear a smile so wide

Now I feel myself falling in strips,

From inside

and my teeth become claws

and my eyes stop trying to see

My mouth wrapped around iron bars

My dress a bullfighter between passing cars

Do you know what you’ve done to me

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