I’m the girl you grew up watching in porn, behind the scenes.
Fixing her hair for pictures in desk lamp lighting,
adjusting blindfolds to hide freckles dotting each iris.
Action: licking your body to commit every vein to memory.
I can devour all of you like a midnight snack
and stomach seconds before sunrise.
When the film stops rolling, my belly growls
for fried cheese sticks and hot tea.
The shower steaming my flesh is a rebirth.
I launder panties in the sink wearing a thin cotton tee.
Bitterness for unrequited love corrodes
all hope like vinegar on your teeth.
Fixing her hair for pictures in desk lamp lighting,
adjusting blindfolds to hide freckles dotting each iris.
Action: licking your body to commit every vein to memory.
I can devour all of you like a midnight snack
and stomach seconds before sunrise.
When the film stops rolling, my belly growls
for fried cheese sticks and hot tea.
The shower steaming my flesh is a rebirth.
I launder panties in the sink wearing a thin cotton tee.
Bitterness for unrequited love corrodes
all hope like vinegar on your teeth.
Aimee Nicole is a chronically ill queer poet currently residing in Rhode Island. She holds a BFA in Creative Writing from Roger Williams University and has been published by the Red Booth Review, The Nonconformist, and Voice of Eve, among others. For fun, she enjoys attending roller derby bouts and trying desperately to win at drag bingo.
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