When I held you up to my cheek you were cold
when I came close to your smile it dissolved,
the paint on your lips was as deep
as the steaming ruby of beetroot soup
but your breath smelled of varnish and pine
and your eyes swivelled away from mine.
When I wanted to open you up
you glowed, dumpy and perfect
smoothing your dozen little selves
like rolls of fat under your apron
and I hadn't the heart to look at them.
I knew I would be spoiling something.
But when I listened to your heart
I heard the worlds inside you spinning
like the earth on its axis spinning.
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