sound I make

they like the sound I make
when I break.
ripe tendons
tend to tune
the snap
of limbs
deliciously

this is what
I remember about lovemaking
with men:
a kind of wheezing
in the chest that rolls
over mine
throats burn
when they smell my blood

once pulled,
there is a split second
in which they look
almost human
nuzzling my hollows
soft ’til saliva
saves their mouths
from need of me

eyes click open.
they are animal again
remembering
how to leave the carcass
once it is cleaned

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